Skip to main content

Full text of "The Patrician"

See other formats





of  "€l)t 















I  H  T" 



i)  of  Eea,  co. 

THE  reign  of  EDWARD  III.  forms  the  most  martial  and  chivalrous  period  of 
English  history.  On  the  roll  of  the  military  "  worthies  "  it  produced — 
and  the  brilliant  category  includes  Edward  the  Black  Prince,  Audley, 
Chandos,  and  Manny — few  names  stand  more  prominently  forward  than 
that  of  Sir  HUGH  CALVELEY  of  Lea.  Froissart's  romantic  pen  comme- 
morates with  graphic  force  the  achievements  of  the  Cheshire  knight,  and  it 
is  indeed  observable  that  the  old  chronicler  rarely  touches  on  Sir  Hugh  with- 
out placing  him  in  the  very  foreground  of  his  living  pictures.  The  family 
from  which  this  renowned  warrior  sprang,  was  a  branch  of  the  ancient 
House  of  Calvelegh  of  Calvelegh,  in  the  Hundred  of  Edisbury,  which  is 
traced  to  Hugh  de  Calvelegh,  who  became  Lord  of  Calvelegh  in  the  reign 
of  King  John  by  grant  from  Richard  de  Vernon.  The  first  Calveley  of 
Lea  was 

DAVID  DE  CALVELEGH,  (2nd  son  of  Kenric  de  Calvelegh  of  Calvelegh,) 
who  obtained  a  grant,  temp.  Edward  III.,  of  the  lordship  of  Lea,  in  the 
Hundred  of  Broxton,  Cheshire,  previously  a  part  of  the  extensive  posses- 
sions of  the  Montalts  and  the  Montacutes.  He  married  twice :  by  his 
first  wife  Johanna  he  appears  to  have  had  four  sons ;  the  eldest  of  whom, 

SIR  HUGH  CALVKLEY,  succeeded  to  Lea,  and  was  the  celebrated  soldier, 
whose  achievements  have  rendered  the  name  so  familiar  to  the  historic 
reader.  He  first  appears  in  the  public  events  of  his  time  as  one  of  the 
thirty  combatants  who,  in  1351,  engaged,  in  mortal  strife,  an  equal  number  of 
Bretons,  for  the  purpose  of  deciding  some  differences  which  had  arisen  out 
of  the  disorders  committed  by  the  English  after  the  death  of  Sir  Thomas 
Daggeworth.  The  Bretons  gained  the  victory  by  one  of  their  party 
breaking  on  horseback  the  ranks  of  the  English,  the  greater  number  of 
whom  fell  in  the  engagement.  Knolles,  Calveley  and  Croquart  were  cap- 
tured and  carried  to  the  castle  of  Josselin.  The  Lord  of  Tinteniac,  on 
the  enemy's  side,  and  the  gallant  Croquart,  on  the  English,  obtained  the 
prizes  of  valour.  Such  was  the  issue  of  the  famous  "  Combat  of  Thirty." 
A  cross,  still  existing,  marks  the  battle  field,  known  to  this  day  as  "  Le 
champ  des  Anglois."  In  a  few  years  after,  Sir  Hugh  commanded  a  divi- 

VOL.  iv. — NO.  xv.  B 


sion  of  the  English  forces  at  the  battle  of  Auray,  to  which  Froissart  refers 
in  the  following  interesting  narrative. 

"  Sir  John  Chandos  formed  three  battalions  and  a  rear  guard.  He 
placed  over  the  first  Sir  Robert  Knolles,  Sir  Walter  Huet,  and  Sir  Richard 
Burley.  The  second  battalion  was  under  the  command  of  Sir  Oliver  de 
Clisson,  Sir  Eustace  D'Ambreticourt  and  Sir  Matthew  Gournay.  The  Earl 
of  Montfort  had  the  third,  which  was  to  remain  near  his  person.  There 
were  in  each  battalion  five  hundred  men-at-arms  and  four  hundred  archers. 
When  he  came  to  the  rear- guard,  he  called  Sir  Hugh  Calveley  to  him,  and 
said,  '  Sir  Hugh,  you  will  take  the  command  of  the  rear- guard  of  five- 
hundred  men,  and  keep  on  our  wing,  without  moving  one  step,  whatever 
may  happen,  unless  you  shall  see  an  absolute  necessity  for  it ;  such  as  our 
battalions  giving  way,  or  by  accident  broken  j  in  that  case,  you  will  hasten 
to  succour  those  who  are  giving  way,  or  who  may  be  in  disorder ;  and 
assure  yourself,  you  cannot  this  day  do  a  more  meritorious  service.' 
When  Sir  Hugh  heard  Sir  John  Chandos  give  him  these  orders,  he  was 
much  hurt  and  angry  with  him,  and  said,  '  Sir  John,  Sir  John,  give  the 
command  of  this  rear-guard  to  some  other;  for  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
troubled  with  it ;'  and,  then,  added,  *  Sir  knight,  for  what  manner  of 
reason  have  you  thus  provided  for  me  ?  and  why  am  I  not  as  fit  and  proper 
to  take  my  post  in  the  front  rank  as  others?'  Sir  John  discreetly  answered, 
'  Sir  Hugh,  I  did  not  place  you  with  the  rear- guard  because  you  were  not 
as  good  a  knight  as  any  of  us  ;  for,  in  truth,  I  know  that  you  are  equally 
valiant  with  the  best ;  but  I  order  you  to  that  post,  because  I  know  you  are 
both  bold  and  prudent,  and  that  it  is  absolutely  necessary  for  you  or  me 
to  take  that  command.  I  therefore  most  earnestly  entreat  it  of  you  ;  for, 
if  you  will  do  so,  we  shall  all  be  the  better  for  it ;  and  you,  yourself,  will 
acquire  great  honour ;  in  addition,  I  promise  to  comply  with  the  first  re- 
quest you  may  make  me.'  Notwithstanding  this  handsome  speech  of  Sir 
John  Chandos,  Sir  Hugh  refused  to  comply,  considering  it  as  a  great 
affront  offered  him,  and  entreated,  through  the  love  of  God,  with  uplifted 
hands,  that  he  would  send  some  other  to  that  command  ;  for,  in  fact,  he  was 
anxious  to  enter  the  battle  with  the  first.  This  conduct  nearly  brought 
ears  to  the  eyes  of  Sir  John.  He  again  addressed  him,  gently  saying ; 
tSr  Hugh,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  either  you  or  I  take  this  com- 
mand; now,  consider  which  can  be  most  spared.'  Sir  Hugh,  having  con- 
sidered this  last  speech,  was  much  confused,  and  replied ;  '  Certainly,  Sir, 
I  know  full  well  that  you  would  ask  nothing  from  me,  which  could  turn 
out  to  my  dishonour ;  and,  since  it  is  so,  I  will  very  cheerfully  undertake 
it.'  Sir  Hugh  Calveley  then  took  the  command  called  the  rear- guard, 
entered  the  field  on  the  wing  of  the  others,  and  formed  his  line.  It  was  on 
Saturday  the  8th  of  October,  J364,  that  these  battalions  were  drawn  up 
facing  each  other,  in  a  handsome  plain,  near  to  Auray  in  Brittany.  I  must 
say,  it  was  a  fine  thing  to  see  and  reflect  on  ;  for  there  were  banners  and 
pennons  flying  with  the  richest  armour  on  each  side ;  the  French  were  so 
handsomely  and  grandly  drawn  up,  it  was  great  pleasure  to  look  at  them." 
Froissart  proceeds  to  narrate  the  vain  efforts  made  by  the  Lord 
de  Beaumonor  to  bring  about  a  treaty  of  peace,  and  then  eloquently  de- 
scribes the  result.  "  Sir  John  Chandos  returned  to  the  Earl  of  Montfort, 
who  asked,  '  How  goes  on  the  treaty  ?  What  does  our  adversary  say  ?' 
*  What  does  he  say !'  replied  Chandos ;  '  why  he  sends  word  by  the 
Lord  de  Beaumanoir,  who  has  this  instant  left  me,  that  he  will  fight  with 
you  at  all  events,  and  remain  Duke  of  Brittany,  or  die  in  the  field.'  This 


answer  was  made  by  Sir  John  in  order  to  excite  the  courage  of  the  Earl 
of  Montfort ;  and,  he  continued  saying,  '  Now,  consider  what  you  will 
determine  to  do,  whether  to  engage  or  not.'  '  By  St.  George/  answered 
Montfort,  '  engage  will  I,  and  God  assist  the  right  cause.  Order  our 
banners  to  advance  immediately.'  '"  We  need  not  relate  the  details,  romantic 
though  they  be,  as  detailed  in  the  glowing  language  of  the  Chronicler  ;  suffice 
it  to  add  that  the  post  assigned  to  the  knight  of  Lea  proved  not  inglorious, 
that,  in  more  than  one  emergency,  the  failing  forces  of  the  English  were 
sustained  by  his  reserve,  and  that  among  the  leaders  who  contributed  in  the 
most  eminent  degree  to  the  famous  victory  of  Auray,  no  small  share  of  the 
glory  may,  with  justice,  be  given  to  Sir  Hugh  Calveley. 

We  next  find  our  hero,  not  very  reputably  engaged,  as  a  Captain  of  the 
Free  Companies,  composed  partly  of  disbanded  soldiers  and  partly  of  ban- 
ditti, who  had  enlisted  in  the  service  of  Henry  of  Trastamare  against  Pedro 
the  Cruel.  Shortly  after,  however,  the  Black  Prince  having  joined  the 
army  of  the  King  of  Castile,  Sir  Hugh  placed  himself  under  the  command 
of  his  old  General,  the  illustrious  Chandos,  and  distinguished  himself  by 
many  feats  of  valour  at  the  bloody  battle  of  Navarette. 

In  1377,  Holinshed  relates,  "  Sir  Hugh  Calvelie  was  sent  over  to  Calis, 
to  remain  upon  safe  keeping  of  that  town  as  deputie  there  ;  and  in  the 
same  year  comming  one  morning  to  Bullongne,  he  burnt  certeine  ships, 
which  laie  there  in  the  haven,  to  the  number  of  six  and  twentie,  besides  two 
proper  barks,  and  having  spoiled  and  burnt  the  most  part  of  the  base  towne, 
returned  to  Calis,  with  a  rich  bootie  of  goods  and  cattell."  The  same  his- 
torian further  informs  us  that  this  doughty  knight  recovered  the  castle  of 
Marke,  which  had  been  betrayed  by  "certeine  Picards  stipendiarie  soldiers 
in  the  said  Castell,"  and  goes  on  to  state  that  "  Sir  Hugh  slept  not  at  his 
business.  Shortly  after  Christmas,  A.D.  1378,  he  spoiled  the  town  of 
Estaples,  the  same  daie  the  fair  was  kept  there,"  and  in  the  next  spring,  as 
Admiral  of  England,  conveyed  the  Duke  of  Britany  to  a  haven  near  St. 
Maloes,  and  repelled,  with  the  most  dauntless  bravery,  a  sudden  attack  made 
by  the  French  vessels.  In  1380,  he  encountered  the  tremendous  storm 
which  destroyed  a  large  portion  of  the  expedition  to  Brittany,  and  was  one 
of  eight  who  took  to  the  masts  and  cables,  and  were  dashed  on  shore  by 
the  violence  of  the  storm. 

The  crusade  of  the  Bishop  of  Norwich  against  the  Clementists  brings  Sir 
Hugh  Calveley  once  more  forward,  "  an  opponent  of  his  leader's  measures 
in  the  cabinet,  but  a  vigorous  supporter  in  the  field/'*  until  after  a  series  of 
successes,  his  troops  were  surprised  in  Bergues  by  the  French  king,  with 
superior  numbers,  and  Sir  Hugh,  abandoning  the  contest  as  hopeless,  re- 
turned to  Calais.  The  following  is  Froissart's  interesting  description  of  the 
event : — 

"  Sir  Hugh  Calveley,  on  his  arrival  at  Bergues  quartered  himself  and 
his  men  in  the  different  hotels  and  houses  of  the  town ;  they  were  in  the 
whole,  including  archers,  more  than  four  thousand  men.  Sir  Hugh  said, 
'  I  am  determined  to  keep  this  town  ;  it  is  of  good  strength  and  we  are 
enough  to  defend  it.  I  expect  we  shall  have,  in  five  or  six  days,  reinforce- 
ments from  England ;  for  they  will  learn  our  situation  and  also  the  force  of 
our  enemies.'  All  replied,  '  God  assist  us.' 

Upon  this  he  made  very  prudent  regulations ;  on  dividing  his  men  under 
pennons  and  into  companies,  to  mount  the  walls  and  guard  the  gates,  he 
found  he  had  numbers  sufficient.  He  ordered  all  the  ladies,  women, 

*  Ormerod. 

B  2 


children,  and  lower   classes   of  inhabitants  to  retire  into  a  church,  from 
whence  they  were  not  to  stir. 

The  King  of  France  was  at  the  abbey  of  Ranombergues,  and  learnt  that 
the  English  had  retreated  to  Bergues.  A  council  was  held  on  the  occasion, 
when  it  was  ordered  that  the  van,  with  the  constables  and  marshals,  should 
advance  beyond  the  town  and  encamp  on  one  of  its  sides.  And  the  king  of 
France,  with  the  Dukes  of  Berry,  Burgundy  and  Bourbon,  would  follow  with 
the  main  army ;  that  the  Count  de  Blois  and  the  Count  d'Eu,  with  the  rear 
division,  should  lodge  themselves  on  the  other  side  of  the  town,  and  thus 
surround  the  English. 

This  plan  was  executed  :  and  the  King  set  out  from  Ronombergues,  at- 
tended by  his  whole  army.  It  was  a  beautiful  sight  to  behold  these  banners, 
pennons  and  helmets,  glittering  in  the  sun,  and  such  numbers  of  men  at 
arms  that  the  eye  could  not  compass  them.  They  seemed  like  a  moving 
forest,  so  upright  did  they  hold  their  lances.  Thus  they  marched  in  four 
divisions  towards  Bergues,  to  enclose  the  English  in  that  town. 

About  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  an  English  herald  entered  the  town, 
who,  by  the  courtesy  of  the  lords  of  France,  had  passed  through  their  army  : 
he  waited  on  Sir  Hugh  Calveley  in  his  hotel,  and  spoke  so  loud  that  every 
one  heard  him.  '  Herald,  whence  dost  thou  come?'  'My  Lord,' replied 
the  herald,  '  I  come  from  the  French  army,  where  I  have  seen  the  finest 
men  at  arms,  and  in  such  vast  numbers  that  there  is  not  at  this  day  another 
King  who  can  shew  the  like.' 

'  And  these  fine  men  at  arms  which  thou  art  speaking  of,'  saith  Sir 
Hugh,  '  what  number  are  they  ?'  'By  my  faith,  my  Lord,  they  are  full 
twenty- six  thousand  men  at  arms  :  handsomer  nor  better  armed  were  never 

'  Ha,  ha,'  replied  Sir  Hugh,  who  was  much  provoked  at  the  latter  part  of 
this  speech,  '  thou  art  a  fine  fellow  to  come  and  mock  us  with  this  pompous 
tale.  I  know  well  thou  hast  lied ;  for  many  a  time  have  I  seen  the  armies 
of  France,  but  they  never  amounted  to  twenty-six  thousand ;  no,  not  even 
to  six  thousand  men  at  arms/ 

As  he  said  this,  the  watch  of  the  town  who  was  at  his  post,  sounded  his 
trumpet,  for  the  van  of  the  enemy  was  about  passing  near  the  walls — Sir 
Hugh  then,  addressing  the  knights  and  squires  present,  said ;  '  Come, 
come,  let  us  go  and  see  these  twenty-six  thousand  men  at  arms  march  by, 
for  our  watch  blows  his  horn !'  They  went  on  ftthe  walls  of  the  place  and 
leaning  on  them,  observed  the  march  of  the  van,  which  might  have  con- 
sisted of  about  fifteen  hundred  lances,  with  the  constable,  the  marshals,  the 
master  of  the  cross-bows  and  the  Lord  de  Courcy.  Next  came  the  Duke 
of  Brittany,  the  Earl  of  Flanders  and  the  Count  de  St.  Pol,  who  had  under 
his  command  about  fifteen  hundred  lances  more.  Sir  Hugh  Calveley,  who 
thought  he  had  seen  the  whole  army,  said  '  Now  see  if  I  did  not  say  "truth  : 
where  are  these  twenty-six  thousand  men?  Why  if  they  be  three  thousand 
menat  arjns,  they  are  ten  thousand.  Let  us  go  to  dinner,  for  I  do  not  yet 
see  such  a  force  as  should  oblige  us  to  surrender  the  town.  This  herald 
would  frighten  us  well,  if  we  were  to  believe  him.' 

The  herald  was  much  ashamed,  but  he  said,  '  My  Lord,  you  have  as  yet 
only  seen  the  van  guard.  The  King  and  his  uncles  are  behind  with  the  main 
army,  and  there  is  besides  a  rear  division,  which  consists  of  more  than  two 
thousand  lances.  You  will  see  the  whole  in  four  hours,  if  you  remain  here.' 

Sir  Hugh  paid  not  any  attention  to  him  but  returned  to  his  house,  saying 


he  had  seen  every  thing,  and  seated  himself  at  table.  He  had  scarcely  done 
so,  than  the  watch  again  blew  his  horn,  and  so  loud  as  if  he  would  burst  it ; 
Sir  Hugh  rose  from  table,  saying  he  would  see  what  was  the  cause  of  this, 
and  mounted  the  battlements.  At  this  moment  the  King  of  France  marched 
by,  attended  by  his  uncles,  the  Duke  Frederick,  the  Duke  of  Lorraine,  the 
Count  of  Savoy,  the  Dauphine  of  Auvergne,  the  Count  de  la  Marche,  and 
their  troops.  In  this  battalion  were  full  sixteen  thousand  lances.  Sir 
Hugh  felt  himself  much  disappointed,  and  said  to  the  herald  who  was  by 
his  side,  '  I  have  been  in  the  wrong  to  blame  you,  come,  come,  let  us  mount 
our  horses  and  save  ourselves,  for  it  will  do  us  no  good  to  remain  here ;  I 
no  longer  know  the  state  of  France,  I  have  never  seen  such  numbers  col- 
lected together  by  three  fourths  as  I  now  see  and  have  seen  in  the  van — 
besides  the  rear  division  is  still  to  come.  Upon  this  Sir  Hugh  Calveley 
left  the  walls  and  returned  to  his  house.  All  the  horses  being  ready  saddled 
and  loaded,  they  mounted,  and  having  ordered  the  gates  to  be  opened  which 
lead  to  Bourbourg,  they  set  off  without  any  noise,  carrying  with  them 
all  their  pillage. 

Had  the  French  suspected  this,  they  could  easily  have  stopped  them,  but 
they  were  ignorant  of  it  for  a  long  time,  so  that  they  were  nearly  arrived  at 
Bourbourg  before  they  heard  of  it. 

Sir  Hugh  Calveley  halted  in  the  plain  to  wait  for  his  rear  and  baggage. 
He  was  very  melancholy  and  said  to  Sir  Thomas  Trivet  and  others  who  had 
come  to  meet  him  ;  '  By  my  faith,  gentlemen,  we  have  this  time  made  a 
most  shameful  expedition :  never  was  so  pitiful  or  wretched  a  one  made 
from  England.  You  would  have  your  wills,  and  placed  your  confidence  in 
the  Bishop  of  Norwich,  who  wanted  to  fly  before  he  had  wings;  now  see  the 
honourable  end  you  have  brought  it  to.  There  is  Bourbourg  ]  If  you 
choose  it,  retire  thither ;  but  for  my  part  I  shall  march  to  Gravelines  and 
Calais,  because  I  find  we  are  not  of  sufficient  strength  to  cope  with  the  King 
of  France.' 

The  English  knights,  conscious  they  had  been  to  blame  in  several  things, 
replied  :  '  God  help  us  !  we  shall  return  to  Bourbourg  and  wait  the  event, 
such  as  God  may  please  to  ordain.'  Sir  Hugh  on  this  left  them,  and  they 
threw  themselves  into  Bourbourg." 

None  of  the  blame  attending  this  misadventure  fell  on  Sir  Hugh,  and  he 
retained  to  the  time  of  his  decease  the  government  of  Guernsey,  and  the 
care  of  the  royal  castle  and  the  park  of  Shotwick.  Having  acquired  from 
his  estates  in  Cheshire,  his  various  official  appointments,  and  the  fruits  of 
his  predatory  warfare,  enormous  wealth,  he  devoted  a  portion  to  the  estab- 
lishment of  an  hospital  at  Rome,  and  sanctified  the  end  of  his  days  by  an 
act  of  similar  piety  in  his  own  country — the  foundation  of  the  college  of 
Bunbury  in  Cheshire — which  appears  to  have  been  completed  before  the 
decease  of  its  founder,  which  event  occurred  on  the  feast  of  St.  George  in 
1394.  An  armed  effigy,  reposing  on  one  of  the  most  sumptuous  altar 
tombs  of  which  the  county  of  Chester  can  boast,  still  remains  in  the  chancel 
of  the  college  of  Bunbury,  marking  the  spot  where  were  interred  the  mortal 
remains  of  the  warrior  knight,  the  gallant  Sir  Hugh  Calveley  of  Lea.  Tra- 
dition assigned  to  him  for  bride  no  less  a  personage  than  the  Queen  of  Ar- 
ragon,  but  recent  researches  have  altogether  refuted  this  popular  error.  In 
all  probability,  he  never  married,  and  to  a  certainty,  he  left  no  issue.  His 
next  heir  was  his  grandnephew, 

DAVID  DE  CALVELEY,  eldest  son  of  Sir  Hugh  Calveley,  the  younger,  and 
grandson  of  David,  the  second  son  of  the  first  David  Calvelegh  of  Lea. 


He  held  the  property  for  some  years,  but  died  without  issue,  temp.  Henry  IV., 
and  was  succeeded  by  his  brother, 

HUGH  DE  CALVELEY,  Esq.  of  Lea,  whose  post  mortem  inquisition  bears 
date  11  Hen.  VI.  By  Maud,  his  wife,  dau.  and  heir  of  Sir  Henry  Hubeck 
Knt,  of  Leicestershire,  he  left  a  son  and  heir, 

SIR  HUGH  CALVELEY,  Knt.  of  Lea,  who  married  Margaret,  dau.  of  Sir 
John  Done,  Knt.  of  Utkinton,  and  left  at  his  decease  (Inq.  p.m.  10  HEN. 
VII.)  a  dau.  Eliz.  wife  of  John  Eyton  of  Rhuabon,  co.  Denbigh,  and  a  son 
and  heir,  SIR  HUGH  CALVELEY,  Knt.  of  Lea,  whose  wife  was  Christiana, 
dau.  and  heir  of  Thomas  Cottingham,  and  whose  children,  by  her,  were 
four  daus.,  Alice  m.  to  Richard  Clyve  of  Huxley,  Jane  m.  to  Sir  John 
Legh  of  Bagulegh,  Dorothy  m.  to  Robert  Massey  of  Coddington,  and 
Eleanor,  who  d.  unm.,  and  one  son, 

SIR  GEORGE  CALVELEY  of  Lea,  Knt.  He  m.  Elizabeth,  dau.  of  Sir 
Piers  Dutton  of  Hatton,  Knt.,  and  had  besides  a  son  and  heir,  SIR  HUGH, 
four  other  sons  and  six  daus.,  viz.  Peter  and  George,  both  d.s.p.,  John, 
valet  of  Queen  Mary,  Anthony  d.  without  lawful  issue,  Catharine  wife  of  John 
Beeston,  Esq.  of  Beeston,  Elizabeth  wife  of  Richard  Gerard  of  Crewood, 
Eleanor,  wife  of  John  Davenport  of  Calveley,  Christina  wife  of  Richard 
Hough  of  Leighton,  Joan  wife  1st  of  John  Edwards  of  Chirk,  co.  Den- 
bigh, and  2nd  of  Sir  Ralph  Leycester,  Knt.,  and  Dorothy  wife  1st  of  Robert 
Boswek,  and  2ndly  of  Edward  Aimer.  The  eldest  son  and  heir, 

SIR  HUGH  CALVELEY  of  Lea,  knighted  at  Leith  1544,  m.  Eleanor  dau. 
and  heiress  of  Ralph  Tattershall  of  Bulkeley,  and  by  her  had,  besides  a  dau. 
Eleanor  wife  of  John  Dutton  Esq.  of  Dutton,  three  sons  I.  Sir  George 
Calveley,  Knt.  of  Lea,  eldest  son  and  heir,  m.  1st,  Margaret  dau.  of  John 
Moreton  of  Moreton,  and  2ndly,  Agnes  dau.  and  heiress  of  Anthony  Browne 
of  Wodhull,  relict  of  Richard  Chetwode,  Esq.  and  by  the  latter  only  had 
issue  two  sons,  George  and  Hugh,  both  d.  infants.  He  d.  5th  August,  1585. 
II.  Hugh  d.  s.p.  -,  and  III.  HUGH.  The  youngest  son  and  eventual  heir  to 
his  brother, 

HUGH  CALVELEY,  Esq.  of  Lea,  m.  Mary  dau.  of  Sir  Ralph  Leycester 
of  Toft,  Knt.  and  had,  besides  three  daus.,  Elizabeth,  m.  Edward  Dutton, 
Esq.  of  Dutton.  Eleanor  m.  Henry,  son  of  Sir  Richard  Lee  of  Lea,  Knt., 
and  Dorothy  m.  George  Bostock  of  Holt, — a  son, 

SIR  GEORGE  CALVELEY  of  Lea,  Knt.  Sheriff  of  Cheshire,  1612,  who 
m.  1st  Mary  dau.  of  Sir  Hugh  Cholmondeley,  Knt.  of  Cholmondeley,  and 
2nd  a  dau  of  Sir  W.  Jones — which  lady  m.  2ndly  Judge  Littleton.  By  his 
first  only,  Sir  George  Calveley  had  issue,  viz.  Hugh,  (Sir)  his  heir,  Richard 
and  George  both  d.  s,  p.,  Mary  and  Dorothy  both  d.  young,  Elizabeth  m. 
Thomas  Cotton,  Esq.  of  Combermere,  and  Lettice  m.  Thomas  Legh,  D.D. 
third  son  of  Peter  Legh  of  Lyme,  Esq.  Sir  George  d.  1 9th  January,  1 6 1 9,  and 
was  succeeded  by  his  eldest  son  and  heir, 

SIR  HUGH  CALVELEY  of  Lea,  knighted  when  sheriff  of  Cheshire  in 
1642.  Hem.  1st,  Lady  Elizabeth  dau.  of  Henry  Earl  of  Huntingdon,  and 
2ndly,  Mary  dau.  of  Sir  Gilbert  Hoghton,  Knt.  of  Hoghton  Tower,  co.  Lan- 
caster, and  by  the  former  only,  had  issue,  a  son  and  heir  George  Calveley, 
born  in  1635,  d.  young.  Sir  Hugh  d.  without  surviving  issue,  4  April, 
1 648,  and  thus  the  male  line  of  this  ancient  family  ended.  The  estates  were 
divided  between  the  families  of  his  sisters,  Elizabeth,  wife  of  Thomas  Cotton, 
and  Lettice  wife  of  Thomas  Legh,  D.D.  In  the  division  of  the  estates,  the 
manor  of  Lea,  with  the  lands  north  of  the  brook,  passed  to  the  Cottons, 
those  south  of  the  brook  to  the  Leghs  of  Lyme,  The  first  of  these  shares 
was  sold  by  the  late  Sir  Robert  Salusbury  Cotton,  Bart,,  to  Mr.  Joseph 
White  of  London,  and  the  others  vested  in  Thomas  Legh,  Esq.  of 


respecting  tfje  Hife  mitt  dfanrito  of  ^o!)it  Ji»er,  tljc 

THE  biographies  of  the  amiable  and  retiring  author  of  Grongar  Hill,  have 
hitherto  been  so  imperfect,  such  mere  sketches,  that  the  writer  deems  it 
but  a  justice  to  his  ancestor,  and  a  matter  of  some  interest  to  the  reading 
public,  those  who  feel  that  facts  throwing  a  light  on  the  lives  of  great  men, 
be  they  ever  so  small,  should  be  placed  on  record,  to  give  to  the  world  all 
the  materials  in  his  power  which  may  prove  of  service  to  future  writers. 
And  in  the  first  place  will  be  given  a  few  notes  relating  to  the  poet's 
ancestors.  His  contemporary  relatives,  his  and  their  descendants,  will  ap- 
pear at  length  at  the  conclusion  of  these  articles  : — 

With  regard  to  the  origin  of  the  Dyers  from  whom  our  author  de- 
scended, there  seems  to  be  conflicting  opinions,  not  among  the  printed  lives 
of  him,  but  among  the  family  papers  themselves.  From  the  papers  in  the 
hands  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Dyer,  of  Abbess-Roding,  in  the  handwriting  of 
the  poet's  father,  Robert  Dyer,  Esq.  of  Aberglasney,  it  is  clear  that  the 
last-named  individual  claimed  descent  from  the  Dyers  of  Somerset  and 
Devon,  and  has  drawn  their  arms  beside  his  name,  viz.  or,  a  chief  indented 
gules.  Yet  he  is  not  uniform  or  steady  in  this  statement,  for  in  another 
paper,  similar  in  other  respects  to  the  others,  he  states  them  to  be  of  South 
Wales.  These  papers  are  numerous,  agreeing  tolerably,  and  systematically 
arranged  thus  : — 

"  Non  nobis  nascimur. 

Or,  a  chief  indented  gules  quarterly  with  sable  3  goats  passant  argent 
(the  allusion  to  arms  is  in  some  copies  omitted,)  by  the  name  of  Dyer, 
as  in  Guillim's  Heraldry,  are  borne  by  Robert  Dyer  of  Aberglasney,  in 
the  county  of  Carmarthen,  Gent,  descended  from  the  ancient  family  of 
that  name 


/  Somersetshire, 

J  the  counties  of  Somersett 

j  and  Devon, 

I  South  Wales. 

His  grandmother 
was  the 

great  granddaughter 
daughter  of  the 
daughter  and  only 


Robert  Ferrars,  the  bishop  of  S.  David,  who  was  burnt  at  Carmarthen  in 
the  reign  of  Queen  Mary,  and  his  mother  was  descended 
/  Sir  William  Thomas,  formerly  of  Aberglasneyf 

)  the  family  of  Sir  Wm.  Thomas,  formerly  of  Aberglasney 

He  married 

1  j  Lhewellin  Voythys,  formerly  of  Aberglasney,  Esq. 
'  the  family  of  Lhewellin  Voythys,  of  Aberglasney. 
Catherine,  daughter  and  coheir  of  John  Cocks,  Esq.,  of  Comins,  in  the 
county  of  Worcester,  by  Elizabeth,  daughter  and    sole  heir  of  Edmond 
Bennet,  of  Mapleton,  in  the  county  of  Hereford,  Gent." 

Cocks  beareth  "  sable,  a  chevron  between  3  attires  of  a  stag  fix't  to  the 
scalp  argent." 

He  states  also  that  he  got  seals  engraved  for  himself,  wife,  and  son 
Robert,  with  the  arms  of  Dyer ;  but  as  I  have  never  seen  or  heard  of 
these  seals  being  in  existence  I  know  not  what  arms  he  meant. 

*  A  generation  is 'evidently  missed  out  here.     W.  H.  L. 

f  "  This  is  a  copy  y'  I  left  with  Mr.  Thomas. 

"  It  is  remarkable  that'the  Dyers  became  again  possessed  of  the  estate  of  Aberglas- 
ney purchased  by'llobert  Dyer  (married  to  Miss  Cocks  as  aforesaid)  of  Sir  Rice  Rudd1 
Bart. — FRAN.  DYER,  his  grandson." 


"  Dyer  indeed  himself   evidently  leans  to  this  origin,  for  in  the  Fleece 
is  the  following  remarjcable  passage.     (Book  3.) 

One  day  arose 

fVio  Tirpavincy  nrt« 

When  ALVA'S  tyranny  the  weaving  arts 
Drove  from  the  fertile  vallies  of  the  Scheld. 
With  speedy  wing,  and  scatter'd  course,  they  fled, 
Like  a  community  of  bees,  disturbed 
By  some  relentless  swain's  rapacious  hand ; 
While  good  ELIZA,  to  the  fugitives 
Gave  gracious  welcome ;  as  wise  ^Egypt  erst 
To  troubled  Nilus,  whose  nutritious  flood 
With  annual  gratitude  enrich'd  her  meads. 
Then,  from  fan*  Antwerp,  an  industrious  train 
Crossed  the  smooth  channel  of  our  smiling  seas ; 
And  hi  the  vales  of  Cantium,  &c. 

Narrating  the  different  places  of  their  settlement,  he  then  goes  on  to 
specify  amongst  the  others, 

that  soft  tract 

Of  Cambria,  deep  embay'd,  Dimetian  land, 
By  green  hills  fenc'd,  by  oceans  murmur  lulPd  f 
Nurse  of  the  rustic  bard,  who  now  resounds 
The  fortunes  of  the  fleece ;  whose  ancestors 
Were  fugitives  from  superstition's  rage, 
And  erst,  from  Devon,  thither  brought  the  loom  j 
Where  ivi'd  walls  of  old  KIDWELLY'S  tow'rs, 
Nodding,  still  on  their  gloomy  brows  project 
Lancastria's  arms,  emboss'd  in  mouldering  stone. 

Which  in  the  first  rough  notes  of  the  poem,  in  my  possession,  is  repre- 
sented thus ; — 

Driven  by  ye  D.  of  Alva, 

nor  brought  ye  Fleece  alone 

But  various  artizans  allur'd  they  came 
With  all  their  instruments  of  art,  their  wheels 
And  looms  and  drugs  of  many  a  beauteous  stain 
5  A  pretious    1  ™    .  ,  , 
*  Inestimable  I  Frei&ht'       $  See  Gary,  p.  70. 

From  the  letter  in  the  sequel  it  would  appear  that  this  descent  from  the 
Dyers  of  Somerset  and  Devon  was  derived  from  one  Francis  Dyer ;  but  as 
I  think  nothing  of  this  descent,  for  both  the  Dyers  of  Wales  and  Somer- 
setshire date  in  England  anterior  to  the  Duke  of  Alva,  and  no  proved 
descent  from  the  latter  race  is  given,  I  pass  on  to  the  poet's  descent  from 
the  Dyers  of  Wales,  which  I  think  there  can  be  no  doubt  is  the  true  one. 

The  Dyers  of  Cardiganshire  and  Pembrokeshire  rank  among  the  most 
ancient  lines  of  Wales,  but  the  pedigrees  given  of  them,  show  their  ex- 
tinction in  the  main  branch  in  heiresses,  and  give  not  the  descendants  of 
the  cadets  of  the  house.  Their  arms  were  "  Gules,  an  eagle  displayed 
argent,  beaked  and  crined  or.  And  it  must  primarily  be  understood  that 
the  poet  uniformly  used  the  coat  "  Gu.  3  eagles  displayed  argent,"  and  his 
brother  Thomas's  descendants  bear  the  same.  Upon  the  whole,  this  stock 
seems  the  most  likely  to  derive  our  poet  from,  but  leaving  conjectures,  we 
will  now  proceed  to  show  his  immediate  ancestors. 


f  The  following  extracts  from  the  pleadings  of  the  Duchy  of  Lancaster 
(anterior  to  Elizabeth's  time}  doubtless  belong  to  our  family,  though  they 
cast  little  lustre  on  it. 

23  Hen.  8.  Margery,  late  wife  of  William  Davy,  v.  David  Dyer,  Mayor  of 

Kydwelly. — Charge  of  aiding  and  abetting  escape  of  murderer. — 
Kydwelly  Lordship,  Gower  Lordship. — Wales. 

24  Hen.  8.  John   Turner  &  ux.  v.   Charles    Herbert,  Howell   Dyer,   and 

others. — Forcible  entry  and  tortious  possession  of  messuage, 
lands  and  appurtenances,  and  false  imprisonment. — Osbaston, 
Monmouth  Lordship. — Wales. 

3  Edw.  6.  James  William  &  ux.  v.  Morres  Dyer  and  others. — Tortious 
possession  of  messuages,  lands,  and  pasture,  and  detention  of 
title  deeds. — Kydwelly. — Caermarthenshire. 

Then  will  come  conveniently  the  following  letter  from  Rowland  Hickes, 
a  relation  of  the  family,  which  gives  a  fair  account  of  the  Dyers  : — 

Honoured  Cousen,  Sber,  1716. 

According  to  yr  request  I  have  made  what  enquiry  I  could,  and  I  send  it 
to  yu  if  any  thinge  of  this  natur  will  bee  searviable  to  yu  I  shall  be  redy  to 
searvice,  yu  will  finde  inclosed  the  names  of  the  Aid"  and  principle  Burgesses 
recorded  in  the  charter  granted  by  King  James  the  first,  1618,  by  which  it 
can  not  bee  considared  that  yu  are  any  wayes  descended  from  Francis  Dyer 
yu  mentioned  to  bee  in  the  reigne  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  for  since  yr  grand- 
father was  borne  is  above  122,  who  might  be  22  or  23  when  the  charter 
was  had,  his  father  was  then  bee  before  her  reigne,  and  abo*  the  family  it 
can  not  bee  denied  but  that  they  were  very  ancient  in  this  towne  and  respon- 
sible, when  five  of  them  was  named  in  24,  especioly  att  that  time  when  the 
town  was  both  populous  and  rich,  but  nothing  to  what  it  had  bine  in  former 
times,  it  is  a  common  tradition  that  they,  the  Fishers,  Collins,  Rows,  Ed- 
wards, and  others,  were  hever  since  the  Conquest,  but  I  rather  thinke  that 
they  came  with  Thomas  and  Morris  de  Londres,  who  got  and  built  this 
castle,  as  nowe  it  is  (with  stone),  Morris  Dyer  was  the  great  granfather  of 
Wm.  Dyer.  Henry  Fisher  was  yr  great  grandfather,  and  John  Fisher  was 
his  brother,  who  was  the  fifth  mayor  by  this  charter.  Hugh  Dyer  was  yr 
g*  grandfather,  Dd  Dyer  was  John  Dyer,  my  son  in  law's  grandfather.  I 
supose  all  these  Dyers  died  soon  after,  for  there  is  noe  mention  of  them 
since,  nor  could  bee  except  they  had  bine  maiors,  for  wee  have  noe  records 
but  the  names  of  the  mairs  until  Richard  Payne  was  the  ninth  maior,  since 
wee  have  records  that  gives  account  of  most  materiall  things  that  was  acted, 
this  far  of  the  Aldn 

John  Dyer,  who  is  named  amongst  the  principle  Burgesses,  was  John 
Dyer's  grandfather  by  his  mother,  and  David  Dyer  was  Hugh  Dyer  yr 
great  granfs  Brother,  named  by  David  Roger  Dyer  and  was  the  1 3th  maior 
there  was  a  commission  sent  to  Sr  Gerard  Bromley  and  Thomas  Lowley, 
Esq.  to  enquire  to  the  state  of  the  towne  in  the  fifth  year  of  King  James, 
wherein  there  r  severall  of  the  Dyers  in  that  Jury  of  24  men.  I  doubt  this 
is  rather  a  trouble  to  yu  than  any  satisfaction,  and  forbear  any  further 
(yr  grandfather  was  the  21st  maior)  with  due  respects  to  yu  and  all  yrs,  I 
rest  yr  ever  affectionat  vnkle  whilst 

Ffor  Mr.  Robert  Dyer  att  Aber- 
glasney  these  to  be  left  at  the 
Nag's  head  in  Carmarthen. 



by  the  charter  of  Kidwelly  granted  by 
King  James  ye  1st,  anno  duo  1618. 

First  Mayor 

Thomas  Babmgton,  Esq. 

First  Ald'men 

John  Howell,  Morris  Dyer,  Henry  Fisher,  Master  of  Arts, 
Hugh  Dyer,  David  Dyer,  John  Aylward,  William  Gardener, 
Griffith  Bowen,  John  Fisher,  David  William,  Griffith  Row, 
and  David  King. 

First  Bayliffs 

William  Gardener  and  Owen  Bowen,  Gent. 

First  principal  Burgesses 

Owen  Bowen,  John  Dyer,  David  Dyer,  John  Phillipps,  Morris 
Fisher,  David  Mansell,  Walter  Rice,  William  Collinn,  Henry 
Jones,  Thomas  Walter,  David  Morton,  and  Morrice  Rees. 

First  Chamberlain 

Robert  Joliffs.     First  Recorder,  Henry  Fleetwood. 

To  the  above  letter  is  appended  the  following  note  in  Robert  Dyer's  writing — 

Roger  Dyer  of  Kidwelly.  Bp.  Ferrar. 

Hugh  Dyer,  made  alderman  of  Kid- dau.   married  Wms,  Wm's 

welly  by  charter  of  James  I.  daughter  married  Hen.  Fisher,  ma'r 

Robert  Dyer,  21  Maior  of  ye  towne.         of  Arts,  Vicar  of  Kidwelly. 
Robert  Dyer.  1st,    Robert    married    Eleanor,    that 

Robert  Dyer  of  Aberg?.  Fisher's  daughter. 

Rob*.  Dyer,  1st  (son,  I  suppose,  un-  2nd,  Robert  married  Mary,  dau.  to 

derstood)  David  Wm8,  of  Brinkarod. 

3rd,  Robert  ma.  Catherine,  daughter 
to  John  Cocks,  &c. 

and  the  following  endorsement. 

"  Letter  Mr.  Hicks  about  ye  family  of  ye  Dyers  in  Kidwelly,  in  a  bre 
of  ye  14  of  ye  same  month  he  gives  an  acco't  y't  they  came  there  with 
Will'm  de  Londres  ab't  ye  year  1093,  and  conquered  these  p'ts  and  built 
ye  Castle  there  with  stone,  and  brought  ye  Welsh  to  subjection." 

I  have  already  (in  the  statements  of  Robert  Dyer)  introduced  the  poet's 
ancestors  by  the  marriages  of  his  fathers.  The  most  distinguished  one  is 
undoubtedly  the  martyr,  Bishop  Ferrars,  or  Farrer,  about  whom  I  shall  not 
here  make  any  remarks.  He  has  been  praised  and  vindicated  by  abler 
hands,*  and  his  exact  relations  seem  hid  in  mystery.  It  admits  of  no  doubt 

*  See  Woods's  Athen.  Oxon.  I.  580.  Also  Thoresby  and  Whittaker's  histories  of 
Leeds,  sub  tit.  Halifax  and  Wortley. 

Some  of  the  articles  which  he  was  put  to  answer  in  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.  were  to 
the  last  degree  frivolous,  &c. ;  viz.  riding  a  Scottish  pad  with  a  bridle  with  white  studs 
and  snaffle,  white  Scottish  stirrups  and  white  spurs  ;  wearing  a  hat  instead  of  a  cap  ; 
whistling  to  his  child;  laying  the  blame  of  the  scarcity  of  herrings  to  the  covetousness 
of  the  fishers,  who  in  time  of  plenty  took  so  many  that  they  destroyed  the  breeders  ; 
and  lastly,  wishing  that  at  the  alteration  of  the  coin,  whatever  metal  it  was  made  of, 
the  penny  should  be  in  weight  worth  a  penny  of  the  same  metal.  Granger's  Bios' 
Hist.  i.  198. 


that  he  was  intimately  connected  with  the  Farrers  of  Ewood,  in  the"  West 
Riding,  but  their  pedigree  begins  a  generation  too  late  for  our  purpose. 
The  Dyers  have  quartered  the  arras,  argent,  six  Horseshoes,  three,  two, 
and  one,  sable,  in  right  of  their  having  the  representation  of  the  Bishop ; 
the  Farrers  bear  Or,  on  a  bend  engrailed  sable,  three  horseshoes  argent ; 
but  every  antiquary  will  recollect  the  extreme  variations  in  the  Ferrars 

With  regard  to  the  Bennetts  I  have  their  quarterings  drawn  in  the  poet's 
own  hand,  with  certain  remarks  upon  them,  I  here  give  them  entire. 

1.  Gules,  a  bezant  between   3  demi-lions  rampant,  argent.     "  Bennets — 

Bennet  of  Mapleton,  Herefordshire,  of  ye  Arlington  family.     BIJ  Benn1 
was  of  ye  same  family." 

2.  Argent,  on  a  bend  sinister  sable,   3   pears  or.      "  Perry s— -Pierry   of 

Nicholson,  near  Leominster,  Herefordsh. — By  the  Pierrys  some  of  my 
old  aunts  were  used  to  say  we  were  descended   from  ye  Mortimers  by 

a  female,  and  y*  of  right  a  share  of  Wymerley(P) shd  have  come 

to  them. 

3.  Gules,  a  fess  between  3  owls,  or.     "  Webbs,  of  Gillirigham  in  Kent. .  .  . 

Webbs,  ye  daugh.  of  Charles  Webbs,  ye  son  of  John  Webbs,  who  was 
burnt  in  Q.  Mary's  days.     She  was  an  Heiress,  and  married  Dr  John 

Bennet,  who  was to  prince  Henry — he  lost  the  pelf  in  ye  search 

of  ye  Philosopher's  stone." 

4.  Or,  a  fess  between  3  lozenges  azure. 

5.  6  ermines,  3,  2,  and  1. 

6.  Argent,  a  chevron  gules  between  3  estoiles  sable. 

Crest,  on  a  wreath  a  demi-lion  holding  between  his  paws  a  mound. 


In  another  shield  he  quarters  the  same  arms,  in  conjunction  with  Cocks, 
Ferrars,  Thomas,  and  Ensor.  As  to  the  latter,  the  Ensor  quartering  came 
only  through  his  wife,  so  the  coat  must  have  been  constructed  for  his  son  to 
bear.  The  Thomas  arms  are  very  roughly  drawn,  but  seem  to  have  been  a 
plain  cross,  a  sword  in  pale,  point  upwards,  in  the  first  quarter.  It  is  very 
evident,  however,  that  Williams  and  Fisher  should  have  been  quartered  also ; 
and  in  a  rough  shield  drawn  by  Robert  Dyer,  the  poet's  father,  the  names 
Fisher  and  Williams  are  inserted  in  the  two  first  quarters,  but  not  the 

The  above  details  are  mere  notes,  but  they  may  be  explanatory  of  circum- 
stances in  the  sequel,  and  the  writer  will  feel  obliged  by  communications 
throwing  light  on  the  families  mentioned  above. 

With  regard  to  the  Dyers  themselves,  the  pedigree  would  appear  to  stand 
thus : — 

Bishop  Robert  Ferrars,  Farrars,=p David  Dyer,  Mayor       Howell  Dyer,  of 

or  Farrar,  of  S.  Davids,  burnt  at  I  of  Kidwelly,  23  Hen.       Monmouth  Lord- 

Carmarthen,  22  Feb.  1555.  8.  ship,  24  Hen.  8. 

—  Ferrars,=r=  —  Williams.         Roger  Dyer,=f= Morris  Dyer,  of  Kidwelly 

d.  &  heiress  )  of  Kidwelly.  Lordship,  3  Edw.  6. 

,-r-  -  -  w  imams,          jioger  JL»yer,=f= 
s  I  of  Kidwelly. 

a  b 


—  Wil-  = 

J    i  —      —  I 
=Henry     John      Hugh  =p.  .  .  . 
Fisher,  Fisher,    Dyer, 

David  = 

=  David  =j 

=.  .  .  .    Moris  = 


dau.  and 

M.  A.  Alder-    one  of 





Vicar    man  of  the  first 


of  Kyd- 


ofKyd-    Kyd-    Alder- 




welly,    welly,   men  of 




Alder-      1618,      Kyd- 

welly  in 



man'of  &  5th     welly 



that      mayor    under 

&  13th 

to  John 

place,    of  that     King 
1618.     place,   James's 

of  the 


by  his 

under   charter. 



King      1618. 






I  - 

=P  Robert  S     Rowland  Hickes=i 

=  —  Dyer= 

=  —  Dyer      —  Dyer= 


Dyer,        calls  the  3rd  Ro- 

dau.  and 

13th          bert  "  Cousen," 


Mayor  of     &  signs  "  unkle  " 

Kidwelly      calls  John  Dyer 

his  "son  in  law." 

See  his  letter 




1                     i  — 


=Mary  Williams,  d.  of  David  Wil- 

— Hickes  ?—  John  Dyer.      —  Dyer=j 


liams,   of  Brinkavord,  by  Anne 

Brinkar,*  descended  from  Lhew- 

ellenVoytliys  of  Aberglasney,  and 

also  from  the  family  of  Sir  Wil- 

liam Thomas,  of  the  same  place, 


Robert  Dyer,  of  Aberglasney,=pCatherine  Cocks,  d.  &  coh.  of  John  Cocks  William  Dyer 
par.  Langarthen,    Gent,   an  I  of  Com  ins,  Worcesters.  by  Elizabeth,  d. 
attorney,  dead  before   1 720,     &  h.  of  Edmond  Bennet,  of  Mapleton, 
bought   Aberglasney  of  Sir  |  Herefords.    Gent. — Mentioned    1720  as 

Rice  Rudd,  Baronet. 

having  an  annuity  of  £300  out  of  Aber-  ] 
glasney  estate. 



of  whom  more 



Richard  Dyer,  Esq.  was  living  on  an  estate  called  Abersannar,  Carmar- 
thenshire, cotemporaneously  with  the  poet,  and  I  have  a  sketch  of  an  ancient 
cross  on  that  estate  drawn  by  the  latter.  It  is  probable,  therefore,  he  was 
of  the  same  family.  Vide  Archaeological  Journal,  iii.  357. 

In  my  next  article  I  shall  speak  of  Dyer  himself. 

*  This  is  on  the  authority  of  another  note  in  the  handwriting  of  Robert  Dyer,  which 
agrees  in  other  respects  with  what  has  been  given  before,  save  that  he  makes  Robert 
the  first,  the  son  of  John  Edward  Dyer,  the  son  of  Edward  Dyer,  an  improbable  state- 
ment ;  indeed  David  Roger's  name  shows  that  the  true  homo  prepositus  of  the  family 
was  a  Roger  Dyer.  There  was  an  Edward  Dyer  among  the  cadets  of  the  Somersetshire 
house,  which  circumstance  perhaps  induced  the  adoption  of  this  unproved  pedigree, 
but  Hicks  in  his  letter  (and  he  must  have  been  well  acquainted  with  all  the  Kidwelly 
families)  is  very  explicit  as  to  the  Welsh  origin. 



GROUCHY,  one  of  the  fast-expiring1  remnants  of  the  Empire,  whose  death 
was  lately  announced,  though  by  no  means  among  the  first  of  French 
generals,  played  too  important  a  part  in  the  latter  days  of  the  great 
revolutionary  war,  to  be  excluded  from  a  passing  notice ;  his  mysterious 
conduct  contributed  more  perhaps  than  any  other  cause  to  Napoleon's 

The  late  marshal,  the  offspring  of  a  noble  family,  was  born  at  Paris, 
on  the  23rd  of  October,  1766,  and  his  birth  qualifying  him  for  rapid 
advancement  under  the  ancient  regime,  he  in  his  fifteenth  year  entered  the 
artillery,  and  ere  his  nineteenth  was  a  captain  in  the  household  brigade 
of  the  king.  When  the  Revolution  broke  out,  however,  he  embraced  its 
principles  with  zeal,  and  quickly  attained  the^  command  of  a  regiment 
of  dragoons,  with  which  he  took  part  in  the  campaign  of  1792.  For 
his  services  on  this  occasion  he,  towards  the  end  of  that  year,  received 
the  command  of  the  cavalry  of  the  army  of  the  Alps,  and  contributed 
to  the  conquest  of  Savoy.  Thence  he  was  transferred  to  La  Vendee  on 
the  outbreak  of  its  celebrated  insurrection,  and  experienced  better  for- 
tune than  most  of  the  French  officers  who  there  encountered  the  rustic 
insurgents.  Charette,  their  leader,  was  mainly  prevented  by  his  exertions 
from  taking  Nantes,  and  in  almost  every  encounter  with  the  rebels 
Grouchy  came  off  with  equal  success,  At  Sorrinceres  in  1793,  he  es- 
pecially distinguished  himself,  leaping  from  his  horse  on  the  verge  of  a 
morass  and  passing  through  with  his  men  when  his  opponents  deemed 
their  position  unassailable,  and  routing  them  with  disastrous  loss.  In 
the  following  year,  however,  the  decree  of  the  Convention  excluding 
noble  officers  from  the  army,  deprived  him  of  his  command,  and  he 
deemed  it  expedient  to  avoid  the  danger  which  then  menaced  all  mem- 
bers of  the  aristocracy,  by  throwing  himself  as  a  private  into  the  Na- 
tional Guards.  But  eight  months  saw  him  restored,  and  with  the 
rank  of  a  general  of  division,  he  returned  to  La  Vendee. 

The  expedition  to  Quiberon  Bay,  first  introduced  him  to  the  notice  of 
the  English.  By  a  rapid  march  across  the  insurgent  territory,  he  unexpec- 
tedly placed  himself  at  Hoche's  disposal,  and  then  essentially  contributed 
to  the  issue  of  that  sanguinary  struggle.  When  the  great  republican 
general  was  appointed  to  the  command  of  what  was  termed  the  Army 
of  the  Ocean,  destined,  it  was  supposed,  for  the  invasion  of  England, 
Grouchy  in  consequence  received  the  appointment  of  one  of  its  lieuten- 
ants ;  but  events  occurred  to  alter  the  original  intention  of  the  directory, 
and  Grouchy  returned  to  the  scene  of  his  former  career  in  La  Vendee, 
while  Hoche  repaired  to  Ireland.  He  was,  however,  quickly  summoned 
back,  and  hastily  embarking,  despatched  to  Bantry  Bay.  But  Hoche  had 
been  prevented  by  a  storm  from  reaching  it,  and  the  expedition  consequently 
failed.  Grouchy  landed  in  Ireland,  but  his  hesitation,  as  at  Waterloo, 
averted  our  danger :  he  quickly  re-embarked,  and  returning  to 
Brest,  was  effectually  employed  in  putting  down  Charette  and  Stofflet. 
Impatient  of  this  service,  he  solicited  a  command  in  Napoleon's  projected 
expedition  to  Egypt  ;  and  Desaix  being  considered  to  have  superior 
claims,  the  refusal  which  followed  is  supposed  to  have  disinclined  him  to 
the  Emperor's  cause.  While  Bonaparte  was  absent  in  Egypt,  Grouchy 


repaired  to  Italy,  and  having  been  entrusted  with  a  secret  mission  by  the 
directory,  so  effectually  performed  his  part,  that  when  Joubert  came  to 
assail  the  impregnable  Sardinian  forces,  they  surrendered  without  a  blow. 
Grouchy,  on  the  abdication  of  the  king,  received  the  command  of  the 
country  in  reward,  and  he  left  the  reputation  of  having  governed  it  with 
equity.  When  Moreau  was  subsequently  appointed  to  restrain  the 
career  of  Suwarrow,  Grouchy  was  appointed  one  of  his  lieutenants,  and  took 
part  in  the  memorable  campaign  of  Piedmont,  where  twenty-five  thou- 
sand French  troops  were  so  ably  manoeuvred,  that  for  six  weeks  they 
baffled  all  the  efforts  of  eighty  thousand  Austro -Russians.  When  by  an 
unexpected  movement  part  of  them  at  last  passed  the  enemy's  flank,  the 
battle  of  Novi  followed  j  but  the  French,  it  is  well  known,  were  defeated, 
on  that  occasion  :  Grouchy,  severely  wounded,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
Russians.  The  Grand-Duke  Constantine  received  him  with  distinction  j 
placed  his  purse,  surgeon,  and  domestics  at  the  prisoner's  disposal,  and 
after  a  year's  captivity,  succeeded  in  obtaining  his  exchange  for  that  of 
the  English  general  Dow.  A  division  in  the  army  of  reserve  was  imme- 
diately assigned  him  ;  but  he  had  already  established  intimate  relations 
with  Moreau,  and  being  entrusted  with  the  command  of  eighteen  thou- 
sand men,  took  a  distinguished  share  in  the  memorable  campaign  of 
Hohenlinden.  Ney,  however,  with  Richepanse  and  Decaen,  after  Moreau, 
monopolized  the  glories  of  that  day,  and  Grouchy  was  despatched  to  keep 
in  check  the  Archduke  John,  which  he  so  effectually  managed  that  when 
the  other  columns  of  the  French  subsequently  united,  the  Austrians  were 
overwhelmed,  and  fifteen  thousand  prisoners,  with  one  hundred  guns,  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 

Peace  followed,  and  Grouchy  was  placed  on  the  reduced  establishment, 
but  the  turbulent  ambition  of  Napoleon  again  summoned  him  and  every 
other  Frenchman  to  arms.  A  grudge,  however,  seerns  to  have  existed 
between  him  and  the  emperor  j  but  still,  though  unpromoted  to  what  he 
deemed  his  due  rank,  Grouchy  took  a  brilliant  part  in  the  campaign  of 
Jena,  and  fell  so  unexpectedly  on  the  Prince  of  Hohenloe,  that  sixteen 
thousand  men,  with  sixty-four  pieces  of  artillery,  were  compelled  to  lay 
down  their  arms.  At  the  battle  of  Lubeck  which  followed,  his  troops 
were  again  successful ;  the  cavalry  under  his  command  defeating  Blucher, 
and  the  town  being  shortly  afterwards  surrendered.  In  the  terrible  action 
of  Friedland  his  division  suffered  dreadfully,  only  twelve  hundred  out  of 
four  thousand  horse  being  left  unwounded  on  the  plain.  His  bravery  on 
this  occasion,  when  with  cavalry  alone  he  opposed  the  enemy  till  the 
infantry  came  up,  contributed  with  the  accidental  absence  of  Murat  to 
secure  him  the  command  of  that  force  at  the  battle  of  Eylau,  and  his 
services  were  warmly  acknowledged  by  Napoleon,  though  he  still  re- 
mained attached  to  Moreau. 

The  peace  of  Tilsit  having  terminated  this  campaign,  Grouchy  was 
despatched  to  Spain,  and  was  governor  of  Madrid  when  the  sanguinary 
insurrection  broke  out.  His  conduct  on  this  occasion  has  been  severely 
arraigned,  but  his  friends  ullege  that  he  only  executed  the  orders  of 
Murat.  He  even  disapproved,  it  is  added,  of  the  Peninsular  invasion, 
and  was  in  consequence  recalled  and  despatched  to  Italy,  whither  Mac- 
donald  had  previously  been  sent  for  similar  sentiments.  Grouchy  was 
thus  enabled  to  distinguish  himself  in  the  passage  of  the  Izonso  :  but 
on  the  recurrence  of  hostilities  with  Austria  he  soon  passed  into  Ger- 
many, and  bore  a  conspicuous  share  in  the  decisive  conflict  of  Wagram. 


Macdonald,  who  accompanied  him,  still  more  essentially  contributed  to 
that  victory.  His  terrible  advance  on  that  day  is  one  of  the  most  me- 
morable deeds  in  military  annals,  and  both  consequently  were  re-installed 
in  the  imperial  favour.  But  Grouchy,  on  the  plea  that  civic  honours 
were  inconsistent  with  a  soldier's  duties,  refused  to  become  a  member  of 
Napoleon's  senate. 

On  the  projected  expedition  to  Russia,  he  received  the  command  of 
one  of  the  three  corps  into  which  the  French  cavalry  was  divided,  and 
was  the  first  Frenchman  who  crossed  the  Boristhenes.  Napoleon  was 
still  twenty  leagues  distant,  and  Grouchy  was  thus  enabled  to  come  first 
into  contact  with  the  Russians  at  Krasnoe.  He  routed,  and  compelled 
them  to  fall  back  upon  Smolensk,  where  Napoleon  next  day  defeated 
them  decisively.  The  terrific  battle  of  Moscow  followed,  and  the  ca- 
valry under  Grouchy,  by  turning  a  Russian  redoubt,  ultimately  put  an 
end  to  the  slaughter  of  the  day.  With  his  son,  Grouchy  was  severely 
wounded ;  and  he  was  still  suffering  at  Moscow  when  Napoleon  com- 
menced his  memorable  retreat.  But  necessity  compelled  him  to  take 
the  field,  and  when  a  fearful  frost  struck  down  almost  all  the  horses  of 
the  army  in  a  night,  he  received  the  command  of  the  "sacred  squadron'' 
formed  to  secure  the  personal  safety  of  the  emperor.  By  the  exertions 
of  this  devoted  band,  still  more  than  of  its  leader,  Napoleon  was  enabled 
to  escape  the  fate  of  Charles  XII.  after  the  battle  of  Pultawa ;  and  the 
terrible  passage  of  the  Berezino  at  last  interposed  shelter  between  him 
and  his  fierce  pursuers.  In  the  campaign  of  1813,  Grouchy  took  no 
part.  Having  been  refused  a  division  of  infantry,  he  retired  discontented 
to  Calvados  ;  but  after  the  battle  of  Leipsic  he  complied  with  the  im- 
perial commands  and  again  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  horse. 
He  was  too  feeble  to  restrain  the  enemy.  The  splendid  cavalry  of  France 
was  no  more,  and  all  the  efforts  of  Grouchy  consequently  failed  to  avert 
the  passage  of  the  Rhine.  Yet  they  were  so  great,  that  Napoleon  at 
last  bestowed  on  him  the  long-coveted  marshal's  baton.  But  the 
emperor's  power  and  his  honours  now  alike  were  passing  ;  and  1815  saw 
Grouchy  in  the  service  of  the  Bourbons.  The  injudicious  conduct  of 
the  restored  government,  however,  detached  him  and  many  others  from 
its  cause;  and  having  been  superseded  in  the  command  of  the  favourite 
chasseurs  by  the  Duke  de  Berri,  he  again  joined  Napoleon  on  returning 
from  Elba.  He  was  entrusted  with  the  duty  of  counteracting  the  Duke 
D'Angouleme,  and  in  a  few  days  so  succeeded  as  to  compel  him  to  capi- 
tulate ;  but  the  terms  displeased  Napoleon,  who  designed  to  make  the 
duke  prisoner  and  exchange  him  for  Maria  Louisa,  then  detained  by  her 
father  in  Italy.  Grouchy's  conduct  was  considered  so  sinister  that  Cor- 
binau,  a  devoted  adherent  of  the  emperor,  was  detached  as  aid-de-camp 
to  watch  him.  But  Napoleon  could  not  then  stand  on  trifles  nor  afford 
to  lose  the  services  of  so  important  an  arm.  Grouchy  accordingly  was 
continued  in  command ;  and  now  the  ambiguous  part  of  his  conduct 
commences.  The  campaign  of  1815  opened  with  unexpected  success 
on  the  part  of  Napoleon.  The  battle  of  Fleurus,  though  indecisive, 
was  brilliant ;  and  the  attitude  assumed  by  the  French  was  exceedingly 
menacing.  On  the  17th  June,  Grouchy  was  despatched  with  thirty-four 
thousand  men  and  a  hundred  guns  to  pursue  or  hold  in  check  the  Prus- 
sians ;  and  during  the  whole  of  the  18th  remained  at  Wavres.  The 
murderous  conflict  of  Waterloo  was  waging  in  the  interval;  and 
Grouchy,  though  but  four  leagues  distant,  rested  inactive.  He  distinctly 
heard  the  guns ;  but  the  positive  orders  of  the  emperor,  it  is  alleged  on 


the  one  hand,  fixed  him  to  the  spot,  while,  on  the  other,  it  is  asserted 
that  he  was  acting  in  collusion  with  the  enemy;  £20,000  have  been  men- 
tioned as  the  bribe ;  but  the  friends  of  the  marshal  reply  that  till  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  victory  on  the  part  of  the  French  was  se- 
cure. At  that  hour,  however,  two  Prussian  corps  under  Bulow,  which 
Grouchy  had  permitted  to  escape,  suddenly  cleared  the  defile  of  St.  Lam- 
bert/and  unexpectedly  assailing  the  French,  turned  the  fortune  of  the  day. 

The  issue  is  known:  but  Grouchy  in  his  "Observations  on  the  cam- 
paign of  1315,"  published  at  Philadelphia,  states  that  he  was  ignorant 
of  Napoleon's  disastrous  overthrow  till  next  day,  and  the  course  he  then 
adopted  contributes,  with  his  subsequent  banishment,  to  render  his  con- 
duct more  inexplicable.  Rallying  the  remains  of  the  imperial  army  at 
Laon,  he  proclaimed  Napoleon  II  Emperor,  and  proposed  to  unite  with 
Soult  in  a  vigorous  effort  for  the  preservation  of  French  indepen- 
dence. From  Soult,  however,  he  received  information  that  ill-health 
and  Napoleon's  abdication  prevented  him  from  longer  acting  either  as 
the  emperor's  major-general  or  commander  of  Paris  ;  and  the  Provisional 
Government,  immediately  on  Soult's  resignation,  appointed  Grouchy  to 
the  command  of  all  the  corps  of  the  grand  army  remaining.  On  re- 
ceiving this  intelligence,  Grouchy  set  out  for  Paris,  resolving  to  approach 
by  the  left  bank  of  the  Oise  j  but  the  allies  occupied  the  right  bank  and 
the  intercommuning  bridges  in  such  force  that  he  was  unable  to  proceed 
farther  than  the  forest  of  Compiegne.  Finding  the  enemy  ranged 
strongly  in  possession  of  the  town,  he  resolved  to  draw  up  his  force  be- 
hind the  wood,  to  cover  if  possible  the  route  to  the  capital.  A  fresh 
order  from  the  Provisional  Government,  however,  to  repair  by  forced 
marches  to  Paris,  induced  him  to  abandon  this  design;  and  on  his  ar- 
rival there  he  found  Davoust  invested  with  the  chief  command.  The 
latter,  according  to  Grouchy,  informed  him  that  it  was  all  over  with  the 
imperial  cause,  and  that  nothing  remained  but  to  mount  the  white  cock- 
ade of  the  Bourbons. 

If  Grouchy  is  to  be  credited,  he  vehemently  opposed  this  design,  and 
repaired  to  Fouch£  to  remonstrate ;  but  all  he  obtained  from  the  un- 
scrupulous minister  of  police  was  a  recommendation  to  go  and  offer 
terms  to  the  allies.  From  this,  the  marshal  says,  he  indignantly  re- 
volted. He  proceeded,  instead,  to  the  council  then  sitting  at  Villette, 
and  advised  them  either  to  assail  the  English  or  the  Prussians ; 
offering  his  services  as  a  private  soldier,  if  he  was  not  permitted  to  com- 
mand. But  he  was  either  viewed  with  distrust,  or  the  advice  was  over- 
ruled. His  colleagues  pronounced  it  impracticable ;  and  in  the  ordinance 
of  the  24th  July,  which  followed,  Grouchy's  name  was  amongst  the  list 
of  those  who  were  exiled  from  France. 

From  this  period,  he  lived  in  retirement ;  at  first  in  the  United  States 
of  America,  whither  he  withdrew  on  his  banishment,  and  latterly  at  St. 
Etienne,  where  he  died.  In  1831  he  was  placed  on  the  list  of  Marshals 
by  King  Louis  Philippe.  In  a  memoir  of  hkn  published  a  few  years  ago 
when  his  conduct  was  vehemently  impeached,  he  is  represented  to  have 
been  during  twenty-three  years  intrusted  with  important  commands,  to 
have  been  present  in  twelve  great  battles  and  sixty  minor  actions,  to 
have  received  nineteen  wounds,  and  after  thirty-five  years  of  active  ser- 
vice to  have  found  himself  of  poorer  fortune  than  he  received  at  his 
birth.  Such  considerations  are  affecting  j  but  there  is  a  doubt  over- 
hanging his  memory  and  outweighing  all. 




IN  the  whole  annals  of  our  criminal  jurisprudence  no  trial  perhaps 
has  excited  more  lasting  interest,  and  is  more  generally  known,  than 
that  of  the  unfortunate  Lawrence  Shirley,  fourth  Earl  Ferrers.  We 
say  unfortunate,  because  there  seems  little  doubt,  at  the  present  day,  that 
the  noble  offender  committed  the  deed  whilst  in  a  state  of  insanity.  In- 
deed, the  very  crime  itself,  and  the  mode  of  its  accomplishment  could 
have  scarcely  been  other  than  the  work  of  a  madman.  The  evidence 
adduced  on  the  part  of  his  lordship,  would  certainly  now  have  established 
a  case  of  lunacy  sufficient  to  have  saved  the  murderer  from  the  extreme 
penalty  of  the  law.  The  rejection  of  his  lordship's  plea  of  insanity  may, 
even  at  the  time,  have  been  caused  by  his  examining  the  witnesses  him- 
self with  so  much  apparent  sense  and  skill,  and  by  his  own  evident  dis- 
inclination to  rely  on  such  a  defence.  The  excitement  caused  by  the 
trial,  and  execution  of  Earl  Ferrers,  is  to  be  easily  accounted  for.  The 
almost  unparalleled  sight  of  a  peer  of  this  realm  brought  to  the  bar  of 
justice,  and  publicly  put  to  death  on  other  than  political  grounds,  made 
a  deep  arid  lasting  impression ;  and,  though  we  may  quarrel  with  the 
verdict,  we  cannot  but  admire  the  stern  rectitude  of  a  government  which, 
once  persuaded  of  the  sanity  of  the  culprit,  would  allow  no  consideration 
of  rank  or  station  to  intervene  in  the  vindication  of  the  law.  George  II, 
when  applied  to,  to  alter  the  punishment  from  hanging  to  beheading, 
is  reported  to  have  said  "  No,  he  has  done  the  deed  of  the  bad  man,  and  he 
shall  die  the  death  of  the  bad  man."  The  Earl's  fate  may  be  truly  re- 
garded as  an  example  of  the  impartial  majesty  of  the  English  law.  But 
to  proceed  to  Lord  Ferrers'  personal  history. 

Lawrence  Shirley,  fourth  Earl  Ferrers,  the  subject  of  this  trial,  was 
the  grandson  of  Robert  the  first  Earl,  through  his  fourth  sou  Lawrence, 
who  married  Anne,  fourth  daughter  of  Sir  Walter  Clarges,  baronet,  and 
whose  three  eldest  sons,  though  he  did  not  succeed  to  the  title  himself, 
were  successively  fourth,  fifth,  and  sixth  Earls  Ferrers.  The  family  of 
Shirley,  Lords  Ferrers,  is  one  of  highantiquity  and  honour,  dating  its  emi- 
nence back  to  the  time  of  the  Normans.  The  first  Earl  Ferrers  had,  while 
Sir  Robert  Shirley,  and  prior  to  the  creation  of  his  Earldom,  become  Lord 
Ferrers,  of  Chartley,  Bourchier,  and  Louvaine  j  King  Charles  II.  having 
terminated  the  abeyance  of  those  baronies  in  his  favour,  as  one  of  the  de 
scendants  of  the  famous  Robert  Devereux,  Earl  of  Essex.  His  grandson, 
the  unhappy  Lord  Ferrers  of  the  trial,  was  born  in  August,  1720  ;  he 
married  the  16th  Sept.  1752,  Mary,  youngest  daughter  of  Amos  Mere- 
dith, Esq.,  son  and  heir  of  Sir  William  Meredith,  baronet,  of  Henbury  j 
but  his  lordship's  irrational  and  cruel  usage  of  this  lady,  who  was  re- 
markable for  her  mild  disposition,  obliged  her  to  apply  to  parliament  for 
redress ;  and  accordingly,  an  act  was  passed  by  which  they  were  sepa- 
rated. She  had  no  issue  by  the  Earl,  and  after  his  death,  she  was  again 

VOL.    IV.    NO.    XV;  C 


married  to  Lord  Frederick  Campbell,  brother  to  John,  fourth  Duke  of 

The  trial  of  Lord  Ferrers  took  place  in  Westminster  Hall;  it  com- 
menced on  the  16th  April,  1760,  and  lasted  three  days ;  the  Lord  Keeper, 
Lord  Henley,  acting  as  Lord  High  Steward. 

After  the  usual  preliminary  formalities,  the  Earl  was  brought  to  the 
bar  by  the  deputy  governor  of  the  Tower,  having  the  axe  carried  before 
him  by  the  gentleman  gaoler,  who  stood  with  it  on  the  left  hand  of  the 
prisoner,  with  the  edge  turned  from  him.  The  prisoner,  when  he  ap- 
proached the  bar,  made  three  reverences,  and  then  fell  upon  his  knees 
at  the  bar. 

L.  H.  S,     Your  lordship  may  rise.  ' 

The  prisoner  rose  up,  and  bowed  to  his  Grace  the  Lord  High  Steward, 
and  to  the  House  of  Peers  3  the  compliment  was  returned  him  by  his 
Grace  and  the  Lords. 

Proclamation  having  been  made  again  for  silence,  the  Lord  High 
Steward  spoke  to  the  prisoner  as  follows : — 

Lawrence  Earl  Ferrers 3  you  are  brought  to  this  bar  to  receive 
your  trial  upon  a  charge  of  the  murder  of  John  Johnson  ;  an  accusa- 
tion, with  respect  to  the  crime,  and  the  persons  who  make  it  (the  grand 
jury  of  the  county  of  Leicester,  the  place  of  your  lordship's  residence), 
of  the  most  solemn  and  serious  nature. 

Yet  my  lord,  you  may  consider  it  but  as  an  accusation  5  for  the 
greatest  or  meanest  subject  of  this  kingdom  (such  is  the  tenderness  of 
our  law)  cannot  be  convicted  capitally,  but  by  a  charge  made  by  twelve 
good  and  lawful  men,  and  a  verdict  found  by  the  same  number  of 
his  equals  at  the  least. 

My  lord,  in  this  period  of  the  proceedings,  while  your  lordship  stands 
only  as  accused,  I  touch  but  gently  on  the  offence  charged  upon  your 
lordship ;  yet,  for  your  own  sake,  it  behoves  me  strongly  to  mark  the 
nature  of  the  judicature  before  which  you  now  appear. 

It  is  a  happiness  resulting  from  your  lordship's  birth  and  the  constitu- 
tion of  this  country,  that  your  lordship  is  now  to  be  tried  by  your  peers 
in  full  parliament:  What  greater  consolation  can  be  suggested  to 
a  person  in  your  unhappy  circumstances,  than  to  be  reminded,  that  you 
are  to  be  tried  by  a  set  of  judges,  whose  sagacity  and  penetration 
no  material  circumstances  in  evidence  can  escape,  and  whose  justice 
nothing  can  influence  or  pervert  ? 

This  consideration,  if  your  lordship  is  conscious  of  innocence,  must 
free  your  mind  from  any  perturbations  that  the  solemnity  of'  such 
a  trial  might  excite ;  it  will  render  the  charge,  heavy  as  it  is,  unembar- 
rassing,  and  leave  your  lordship  firm  and  composed,  to  avail  yourself  of 
every  mode  of  defence,  that  the  most  equal  and  humane  laws  admit  of. 

Your  lordship,  pursuant  to  the  course  of  this  judicature,  hath  been 
furnished  with  a  copy  of  the  indictment,  and  hath  had  your  own  counsel 
assigned ;  you  are  therefore  enabled  to  make  such  defence  as  is  most 
for  your  benefit  and  advantage ;  if  your  lordship  shall  put  yourself 
on  trial,  you  must  be  assured  to  meet  with  nothing  but  justice,  candour, 
and  impartiality. 

Before  1  conclude,  I  am,  by  command  of  the  House,  to  acquaint  your 
lordship,  and  all  other  persons  who  have  occasion  to  speak  to  the  Court, 
during  the  trial,  that  they  are  to  address  themselves  to  the  Lords 
in  general,  and  not  to  any  lord  in  particular. 


Lawrence  Earl  Ferrers,  your  lordship  will  do  well  to  give  attention, 
while  you  are  arraigned  on  your  indictment. 

Here  Earl  Ferrers  was  arraigned,  in  the  form  of  the  indictment,  against 
him,  by  the  Clerk  of  the  Crown  in  the  King's-bench. 

The  case  for  the  crown  was  most  ably  stated  by  the  Attorney  General, 
Charles  Pratt,  afterwards  Lord  Camden.  Chief  Justice  of  the  Common 
Pleas,  and  Lord  Chancellor.  His  speech,  which  is  as  follows,  has  been 
regarded  as  a  model  for  an  address  on  the  part  of  the  prosecution. 

Mr.  Attorney  General.  "  May  it  please  your  lordships,  it  becomes"  my 
duty  to  open  to  your  lordships  the  facts  and  circumstances  of  this 
case,  out  of  which  your  lordships  are  to  collect  and  find  the  crime  that 
is  charged  in  this  indictment. 

The  noble  prisoner  stands  here  arraigned  before  your  lordships  for 
that  odious  offence,  malicious  and  deliberate  murder.  There  cannot  be 
a  crime  in  human  society  that  deserves  more  to  be  punished,  or  more 
strictly  to  be  enquired  after;  and  therefore  it  is,  that  his  Majesty, 
the  great  executive  hand  of  justice  in  this  kingdom,  has  promoted  this 
inquiry,  whereby  all  men  may  see,  that  in  the  case  of  murder  his 
Majesty  makes  no  difference  between  the  greatest  and  meanest  of  his 

The  prisoner  has  a  right,  from  his  quality,  to  the  privilege  of  being 
tried  before  this  noble  tribunal  j  if  he  is  innocent,  he  has  the  greatest 
reason  to  be  comforted,  that  your  lordships  are  his  judges  •  for  that 
nobleness  and  humanity,  which  prompt  you  naturally  to  incline  towards 
mercy,  will  strongly  exert  themselves  in  the  protection  of  innocence. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  the  prisoner  is  really  guilty  of  the  charge,  his 
case  is  truly  deplorable  -,  because  your  minds  cannot  be  deceived  by  the 
false  colouring  of  rhetoric,  nor  your  zeal  for  justice  perverted  by  any 
unmanly  compassion. 

This  impartial  disposition  in  your  lordships  call  upon  the  prosecutors 
to  observe  a  conduct  worthy  of  this  noble  assembly  ;  not  to  enlarge  or 
aggravate  any  part,  or  advance  a  step  beyond  their  instructions ;  but 
barely  to  state  the  naked  facts,  in  order  that,  by  that  means,  your  lord- 
ships may  be  enabled  the  better  to  attend  to  the  witnesses  when  they  are 
called,  to  examine  and  cross-examine,  and  sift  out  the  truth  with  more 

My  lords,  as  I  never  thought  it  my  duty  in  any  case  to  attempt  at 
eloquence,  where  a  prisoner  stood  upon  trial  for  his  life  ;  much  less  shall 
I  think  myself  justified  in  doing  it  before  your  lordships  -}  give  me  leave 
therefore  to  proceed  to  a  narration  of  the  facts. 

My  lords,  the  deceased  person,  Mr.  Johnson,  I  find  to  have  been 
employed  by  the  Ferrers  family  almost  during  the  whole  course  of  his 
life  :  he  was  taken  into  their  service  in  his  youth,  and  continued  in  it 
unfortunately  to  the  time'  of  his  death. 

At  the  time  a  bill  was  passed  by  your  lordships,  about  two  years  ago, 
to  separate  Lord  Ferrers  from  his  lady,  Mr.  Johnson  was  appointed 
receiver  of  his  lordship's  estates.  At  that  time  his  lordship  seems 
to  have  entertained  a  good  opinion  of  him,  because  I  am  told  he  was 
appointed  receiver  at  his  lordship's  own  nomination  ;  but,  very  soon 
after  he  became  invested  with  this  trust,  when  the  noble  lord  found  there 
was  no  possible  method,  by  any  temptation  whatever,  to  prevail  on  Mr. 
Johnson  to  break  that  trust,  his  lordship's  mind  grew  to  be  alienated 
towards  him,  and  his  former  friendship  was  converted  into  hatred. 

c   2 


The  first  instance  of  his  lordship's  malice,  that  will  be  produced,  will 
be  his  giving  him  notice  to  quit  a  beneficial  i'arm  that  Mr.  Johnson  had 
obtained  a  promise  of  from  the  Earl,  or  his  relations,  before  he  was 
appointed  receiver  j  but  when  it  appeared  that  the  trustees  had  made 
good  the  promise,  and  had  granted  him  a  lease,  my  lord  was  obliged  to 
desist  from  that  attempt. 

When  he  found  it  was  impossible  to  remove  him  from  the  farm,  his 
resentment  against  Mr.  Johnson  increased,  and  he  took  at  last  a  deter- 
mined resolution  within  himself  to  commit  the  horrid  fact  for  which  he 
now  stands  arraigned. 

My  lords,  I  find  several  causes  assigned  by  the  prisoner  for  this  indig- 
nation expressed  against  the  deceased;  he  charged  him  with  having 
colluded  secretly  with  his  adversaries,  with  being  in  the  interest  of  those 
he  was  pleased  to  call  his  enemies,  and  instrumental  in  procuring  the  Act 
of  Parliament :  whether  these  charges  were  justly  founded  or  not,  is  totally 
immaterial ;  such  as  they  were,  he  had  conceived  them.  His  lordship, 
who  best  knew  the  malice  of  his  own  heart,  has  confessed  that  he 
harboured  these  suspicions. 

Another  thing  h«  suspected  was,  that,  in  confederacy  with  Mr.  Burslem 
and  Mr.  Curzon,  he  agreed  to  disappoint  his  lordship,  in  regard  to 
a  certain  contract  for  coal  mines.  These  notions,  though  void  of  truth, 
had  so  poisoned  his  lordship's  mind,  that  he  was  determined  at  last  to 
gratify  his  revenge  by  murder. 

This  determination  being  once  settled  and  fixed  in  his  mind,  your 
lordships  will  see,  with  what  art  and  deliberation  it  was  pursued  :  not- 
withstanding these  seeming  causes  of  disgust,  he  dissembled  all  appear- 
ance of  ill-will  or  resentment ;  his  countenance  towards  the  deceased  for 
some  months  seemed  greatly  to  be  changed,  and  his  behaviour  was 
affable  and  good-humoured. 

The  poor  man,  deluded  with  these  appearances,  was  brought  to  believe 
he  was  in  no  danger,  and  that  he  might  safely  trust  himself  alone  with 
his  lordship. 

Matters  being  thus  prepared,  on  Sunday,  the  13th  January,  the  pri- 
soner made  an  appointment  to  Mr.  Johnson  to  come  to  him  on  the 
Friday  following. 

His  lordship,  though  the  appointment  was  five  or  six  days  before, 
remembered  it  perfectly;  nay,  he  remembered  the  very  hour  he  was  to 
come,  and  took  his  measures  accordingly ;  for  your  lordships  will  find, 
that  in  order  to  clear  the  house,  Mrs.  Cliffordi  a  woman  who  lives  with 
his  lordship,  and  four  children,  were  directed  by  him,  at  three  o'clock 
precisely,  to  absent  themselves  5  they  were  ordered  to  walk  out  to  Mrs. 
Clifford's  father,  about  two  miles  from  my  lord's  house,  and  not  to 
return  till  five,  or  half  an  hour  after  five. 

The  two  men-servants  likewise,  the  only  servants  of  that  sex  then 
residing  with  them,  were  contrived  to  be  sent  out  of  the  way;  so  that 
when  Mr.  Johnson  repaired  to  Stanton,  my  lord's  house,  at  three 
o'clock,  there  was  no  person  in  the  house,  except  his  lordship,  and  three 

Mr.  Johnson,  when  he  came  to  the  house,  rapt  at  the  door,  and  was 
received  by  his  lordship,  and  directed  to  wait  some  time  in  the  still 
room  ;  then  his  lordship  ordered  him  into  the  parlour,  where  they  both 
entered  together,  and  the  door  was  immediately  locked  on  the  inside. 


What  passed  in  that  interval,  between  the  time  of  Mr.  Johnson's  first 
going  in,  and  the  time  of  his  being  shot,  can  only  be  now  known  to  your 
lordships  by  the  noble  Earl's  confession,  which  has  been  very  ample 
indeed  upon  the  present  occasion. 

After  Mr.  Johnson  had  been  there  the  best  part  of  an  hour,  one  of  the 
maids  in  the  kitchen,  hearing  some  high  words  in  the  parlour,  went 
to  the  door  to  see  if  she  could  discover  what  was  doing  j  she  listened, 
and  heard  my  lord,  as  she  was  at  the  kitchen  door,  say,  down  upon  your 
knees  j  your  time  is  come  j  you  must  die;  and  presently  after  heard  a 
pistol  go  off;  upon  that,  she  removed  from  the  kitchen,  and  retired 
to  another  part  of  the  house  j  for  she  did  not  care  to  venture  into 
his  lordship's  presence. 

Though  it  appeared,  afterwards,  that  Mr.  Johnson  had  then  received 
that  wound  of  which  he  died,  he  did  not  then  immediately  drop  ;  he 
arose,  and  was  able  to  walk. 

Just  then,  my  Lord  Ferrers,  as  he  confessed  afterwards,  felt  a  few 
momentary  touches  of  compassion  :  he  permitted  Mr.  Johnson  to  be  led 
up  stairs  to  bed,  till  better  assistance  could  be  called ;  he  suffered 
a  surgeon  to  be  sent  for,  nay,  the  very  surgeon  that  Mr.  Johnson  himself 
had  desired ;  and  Mr.  Johnson's  children,  by  his  lordship's  order,  were 
acquainted  with  the  accident,  and  sent  for  to  see  him. 

Mr.  Johnson's  daughter  was  the  first  person  that  came  ;  she  met  the 
noble  lord,  and  the  first  greeting  she  had  from  him  was,  that  he  had  shot 
her  father ;  and  that  he  had  done  it  on  purpose,  and  deliberately.  Mrs. 
Clifford,  who  had  been  apprized  of  this  accident  by  the  servants,  came 
not  long  after ;  and,  in  an  hour  and  a  half,  or  two  hours,  Mr.  Kirkland, 
the  surgeon,  who  was  from  home  when  the  servant  was  dispatched,  and 
at  a  neighbouring  village,  hastened  with  the  best  expedition  he  could 
make,  to  Stanton.  When  he  came  to  Stanton  he  met  my  lord  in  the 

Here  your  lordship  will  observe,  that  the  noble  lord's  conduct  and 
behaviour,  from  this  time  to  the  time  that  Mr.  Johnson  was  removed  to 
his  own  house,  seemed  all  along  calculated  for  his  escape  ;  and  that  the 
only  anxiety  he  expressed  was  the  dread  of  being  seized,  and  brought  to 
punishment  in  case  Mr.  Johnson  should  die. 

Upon  Mr.  Kirkland's  first  appearance,  my  lord  had  told  him,  that 
he  had  shot  Mr.  Johnson,  and  that  he  had  done  it  coolly  ;  he  desired  he 
might -not  be  seized  till  it  was  known  with  certainty  whether  Mr.  Johnson 
would  die  or  not ;  and  threatened,  that  if  any  person  attempted  to  seize 
him,  he  would  shoot  them.  Mr.  Kirkland  told  him,  he  would  take  care 
nobody  should  meddle  with  him. 

Mr.  Kirkland  was  then  brought  up  to  Mr.  Johnson,  who  was  upon 
the  bed  ;  the  surgeon  examined  the  wound,  and  found  that  the  ball  had 
penetrated  a  little  below  the  ribs  on  the  left  side ;  he  took  an  instrument 
in  his  hand,  called  a  director,  in  order  to  probe  the  wound :  here  my 
lord  interrupted  him,  and  said,  You  need  not  be  at  that  trouble  ;  pass 
your  instrument  downwards  ;  I,  when  I  shot  off  the  pistol,  directed  it 
that  way  ;  and  Mr.  Kirkland  found  this,  upon  examination,  to  be  true; 
the  ball  had  not  passed  through  the  body,  but  remained  lodged  in  the 
cavities  of  the  abdomen. 

When  my  lord  found  that  the  ball  was  in  the  body,  he  grew  uneasy  ; 
for  he  was  apprehensive  that  the  ball,  if  it  remained  there,  might  prove 


fatal ;  he  asked  Mr.  Kirkland,  if  it  could  be  extracted  j  Mr.  Kirkland 
told  him,  from  what  he  observed,  it  would  be  impracticable  to  extract 
the  ball :  but  to  give  him  better  hopes  he  told  him,  that  many  persons 
had  lived  a  long  while  after  they  had  been  shot,  though  the  ball  had 
remained  within  them. 

Presently  after  this,  the  surgeon  went  down  stairs  to  prepare  a  fomen- 
tation, and  soon  after  returned :  when  he  came  back  into  the  room,  Mr. 
Johnson  complained  of  the  strangury.  This  alarmed  his  lordship  again  : 
he  then  asked  Mr.  Kirkland,  what  would  be  the  consequence,  if  the 
bladder  or  kidneys  were  hurt?  Mr.  Kirkland  having  laid  down  his 
rule  of  conduct,  wherein  his  prudence  deserves  to  be  commended, 
answered,  that  though  the  bladder  should  be  wounded,  or  the  kidneys 
hurt,  there  had  been  many  cures  performed  upon  such  like  wounds. 

This  made  his  lordship  tolerably  easy  :  he  then  began  to  be  in  better 
spirits,  which,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  at  that  time  were  somewhat  heightened 
with  liquor :  for,  although  he  was  cool  and  fresh  when  he  did  the  fact, 
yet  the  moment  it  was  done,  he  began  to  drink,  and  continued  drinking, 
at  times,  till  twelve  o'clock  at  night :  this  liquor,  however,  only  contri- 
buted to  raise  his  spirits,  without  disordering  his  understanding  j  for  he 
appeared  to  be  complete  master  0f  himself  the  whole  day. 

After  Mr.  Kirkland  had  given  him  so  much  encouragement,  they  toge- 
ther went  down  to  the  still  room  ;  and  now  his  lordship  verily  believing 
that  Mr.  Johnson  would  recover,  he  grew  less  cautious  in  avowing  the 
deliberation  with  which  he  tlid  the  fact,  and  declaring  all  the  circum- 
stances that  attended  it. 

And  here,  because  I  will  not  wrong  the  noble  lord,  by  adding  a  single 
letter  to  my  brief,  your  lordships  shall  hear  his  confession,  from  thence, 
in  his  own  words. 

"  Kirkland,  says  he,  I  believe  Johnson  is  more  frightened  than  hurt ; 
my  intention  was  to  have  shot  him  dead ;  but,  finding  that  he  did  not 
fall  at  the  first  shot,  I  intended  to  have  shot  him  again,  but  the  pain  he 
complained  of  made  me  forbear  j  there  nature  did  take  place,  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  resolution  I  had  formed.  1  desire  you  will  take  care  of  him  j 
for  it  would  be  cruel  not  to  give  him  ease,  now  I  have  spared  his  life. 

"  When  you  speak  of  this  afterwards,  do  not  say  (though  I  desire  he 
may  be  eased  of  his  pain)  that  I  repented  of  what  I  have  done  :  I  am  not 
sorry  for  it  j  it  was  not  done  without  consideration  ;  I  own  it  was  pre- 
meditated j  I  had,  some  time  before,  charged  a  pistol  for  the  purpose, 
being  determined  to  kill  him,  for  he  is  a  villain,  and  deserves  death ;  but 
as  he  is  not  dead,  I  desire  you  will  not  suffer  my  being  seized  ;  for,  if  he 
dies,  I  will  go  and  surrender  myself  to  the  House  of  Lords  •  I  have 
enough  to  justify  the  action  ;  they  will  not  excuse  me,  but  it  will  satisfy 
my  own  conscience  :  but  be  sure  you  don't  go  in  the  morning  without 
letting  me  see  you,  that  I  may  know  if  he  is  likely  to  recover  or  not  ;  I 
will  get  up  at  any  time ;  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

"  To  this  very  strange  and  horrid  declaration  Mr.  Kirkland  answered, 
by  promising  his  lordship,  that  he  would  certainly  give  him  the  first 
intelligence  touching  Mr.  Johnson's  condition;  and,  as  it  was  proper,  for 
very  prudent  reasons,  as  well  with  respect  to  himself  as  Mr.  Johnson,  to 
dissemble  with  his  lordship,  he  proceeded  further,  and  told  him,  that  he 
would  give  a  favourable  account  of  this  matter.  The  noble  lord  then 
asked  him,  what  he  would  say  if  he  was  called  upon  ;  he  told  him  he 
would  say,  that  though  Johnson  was  shot,  that  he  was  in  a  fair  way 


of  recovery.  His  lordship  asked  Mr.  Kirkland,  if  he  would  make  oath 
of  that  ?  He  said,  yes. 

"  Mr.  Kirkland  then  went  to  see  Mr.  Johnson  again,  and  found  him 
better  j  they  then  went  to  supper,  and,  during  the  time  they  were  at  sup- 
per, his  lordship  mentioned  several  other  particulars :  he  said,  he  was 
astonished,  that  the  bullet  should  remain  in  his  body;  for,  says  he, 
I  have  made  a  trial  with^this  pistol,  and  it  pierced  through  a  board 
an  inch  and  a  half  thick  ;  I  am  astonished  it  did  not  pass  through 
his  body ;  I  took  good  aim,  and  I  held  the  pistol  in  this  manner  ; 
and  then  he  shewed  Mr.  Kirkland  the  manner  of  his  holding  the  pistol." 

He  also  declared  the  grounds,  and  motives  for  his  killing  Johnson  3 
that  he  had  been  a  villain  5  that  he  was  in  the  interest  of  his  enemies  j 
that  he  had  joined  with  those  who  had  injured  him,  and  taken  away  his 
estate,  by  an  act  of  parliament  j  that  he  had  colluded  with  Mr.  Curzon 
and  Mr.  Burslem,  with  respect  to  the  coal  contract. 

Another  thing  he  mentioned  with  respect  to  the  farm  5  says  he,  "  I  have 
long  wanted  to  drive  Johnson  out  of  the  farm  j  if  he  recovers,  he  will 
go  back  to  Cheshire,  where  he  came  from."  Mr,  Kirkland  said,  no  doubt 
but  this  accident  would  drive  him  home  again. 

After  they  had  supped,  Mrs.  Clifford  came  into  the  room,  and  she  pro- 
posed, that  Mr.  Johnson  should  be  removed  to  the  Lount,  which  is 
the  name  of  Mr.  Johnson's  house,  and  lies  about  a  mile  from  Stanton  j 
his  lordship  refused  to  consent  to  that,  not  because  he  thought  Mr. 
Johnson  might  be  hurt  by  the  removal,  but,  to  use  his  own  words, 
because  he  would  have  him  under  his  own  roof,  to  plague  the  villain. 

When  the  supper  was  over,  they  returned  back  to  Mr.  Johnson,  who 
was  then  under  the  greatest  uneasiness ;  he  was  restless,  and  the  com- 
plaint of  strangury  increased :  then  my  lord  was  alarmed  again  $  he 
enquired  of  the  surgeon  what  would  be  the  consequence,  in  case  the 
guts  were  shot  through  ?  Mr.  Kirkland  gave  him  a  favourable  answer, 
that  revived  his  spirits  ;  he  went  out  of  the  room,  and  invited  Mr.  Kirk- 
land to  take  a  bottle  of  port  j  they  then  drank  together,  and  during  that 
time,  the  same,  or  the  like  expressions  were  repeated.  I  will  not  trouble 
your  lordships  with  them  again  j  but  he  all  along  declared,  he  did  not  do 
it  hastily,  but  coolly  and  deliberately :  that  his  intention  was  to  have 
killed  him  :  and  that  the  reason  why  he  did  it  at  the  time  was,  because 
he  would  not  sign  a  paper  of  recantation,  acknowledging  all  the  inju- 
ries he  had  done  his  lordship. 

They  then  again  returned  to  Mr.  Johnson,  after  they  had  drank  out 
the  bottle :  whether  the  liquor  was  prevalent  or  not,  1  don't  know  j  your 
lordships  will  observe  what  followed :  his  behaviour  to  the  poor  man, 
though  he  lay  there  under  the  surgeon's  hands,  was  totally  changed,  and 
his  resentment  grew  outrageous  ;  my  lord  again  attacked  him  upon  the 
same  charge  as  before,  compelled  him  to  acknowledge  before  all  the 
company  (of  which  his  daughter  was  one)  that  he  was  a  villain  j  nay, 
he  was  about  to  drag  him  out  of  bed  upon  the  floor,  which  would  hardly 
have  been  prevented,  if  Mr.  Johnson,  who  was  tutored  by  a  wink  from 
Mr.  Kirkland,  had  not  said,  I  do  confess  I  am  a  villain  :  my  lord  at  last 
went  to  bed  j  but,  before  he  departed,  he  said  with  great  earnestness  to 
Mr.  Kirkland,  may  I  rely  upon  you  ?  Are  you  sure  there  is  no  danger  ? 
May  I  go  to  bed  in  safety  ?  Mr.  Kirkland  said,  yes,  your  lordship  may. 
When  his  lordship  was  gone,  poor  Johnson  begged  to  be  removed  to  his 
own  house.  Mr,  Kirkland  wished  it  as  much ;  for,  besides  that  he  could 


not  have  that  free  access  to  his  patient  that  was  necessary,  if  he  was  to 
remain  there,  he  thought  himself  in  the  utmost  peril.  My  lord  had 
confessed  too  much,  and  Mr.  Kirkland  too  little  ;  so  that  if  Mr.  John- 
son had  died  there,  no  man  in  Mr.  Kirkland's  situation  would  have 
wished  to  have  been  alone  with  his  lordship,  considering  the  dangerous 
conversation  that  had  passed  between  them. 

Mr.  Kirkland,  therefore,  immediately  went  to  the  Lount,  procured  six 
or  seven  armed  men,  and  came  back  by  two  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
They  removed  Mr.  Johnson,  put  him  into  a  great  chair,  and  wrapped 
him  up  in  blankets,  and  so  conveyed  him  home.  Towards  morning 
the  poor  man's  symptoms  grew  worse,  and  Mr.  Kirkland  then  went 

Mr.  Johnson  lay  languishing  till  seven  or  eight  in  the  morning, 
and  then  died. 

In  the  mean  time  Mr.  Kirkland  had  procured  a  number  of  armed 
men  to  go  down  to  Stanton,  and  to  seize  his  lordship.  When  they  came 
there,  my  lord  was  just  out  of  bed ;  he  had  his  garters  in  his  hand,  and 
was  seen  passing  towards  the  stable.  The  horses  were  all  saddled,  and 
everything  got  in  readiness  for  his  escape. 

Mr.  Springthorpe  advanced  towards  him  j  and  when  his  lordship 
found  he  was  really  to  be  attacked,  he  fled  back  to  his  house,  and  there 
stood  a  siege  of  four  or  five  hours.  While  he  was  thus  beset,  he 
appeared  at  the  garret  windows,  and  thinking  himself  secure  in  that  place, 
he  began  to  parley,  and  asked,  what  they  wanted  with  him  ?  They  told 
him,  Mr.  Johnson  was  dead,  and  that  they  were  come  to  secure  him. 
He  said,  he  knew  that  was  false  ;  for  Mr.  Johnson  was  not  dead :  that 
he  wished  it  might  be  true :  that  he  would  not  believe  it,  unless  Mr. 
Kirkland  would  declare  it :  that  he  would  pay  no  regard  to  any  body 
else.  He  did  not  think  fit  to  surrender  ;  but  continued  in  the  house,  till 
he  thought  he  had  an  opportunity  of  escaping  through  the  garden.  He 
was  there  discovered  by  one  Cutler,  a  collier,  who  was  a  bold  man,  and 
determined  to  take  him  :  he  marched  up  to  him ;  and  though  his  lord- 
ship was  armed  with  a  blunderbuss,  two  or  three  pistols,  and  a  dagger, 
he  submitted  to  the  collier's  taking  him,  without  making  the  least  resis- 
tance :  and  the  moment  he  was  in  custody,  he  declared  he  gloried  in  the 
fact ;  and  again  declared,  that  he  intended  to  kill  Johnson.  He  was 
then  carried  to  Mr.  Kinsey's  house,  and  remained  there  till  after  the 
coroner  sat  upon  the  body. 

I  must  mention  to  your  lordships,  that  upon  Mr.  Hall,  a  clergyman, 
being  introduced  to  him,  he  told  him,  he  knew  his  duty  as  well  as  he 
or  any  other  clergyman  :  that  the  fact  he  had  committed  was  coolly  and 
deliberately  done.  So  that  your  lordships  see  his  declarations  were  con- 
sistent and  uniform,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end. 

I  shall  neither  aggravate  nor  observe. 

These  are  the  circumstances  which  attended  this  horrid  murder.  J 
have  opened  them  faithfully  from  my  instructions.  The  case  is  rather 
stronger  than  I  have  made  it. 

The  witnesses  are  to  acquaint  your  lordships,  whether  I  have  opened 
the  case  truly.  If  the  evidence  comes  out  as  I  have  represented  it  to 
your  lordships,  then  your  lordships'  sentence  must  be  agreeable  to  law. 
The  noble  Earl  at  the  bar  must  be  found  guilty. 

If  he  has  any  defence,  God  forbid  that  he   should  not  have  a  fair 


opportunity  of  making  it.  Let  him  be  heard  with  patience.  The  pro- 
secutors will  be  as  glad  as  your  lordships  to  find  him  innocent. 

The  evidence  is  to  determine  ;  and  upon  that  evidence  we  shall  leave  it.' ' 

The  entire  evidence  was  in  accordance  with  Mr.  Attorney's  narration, 
and  therefore  little  of  it  need  be  here  given. 

Earl  Ferrers'  own  account  of  the  actual  murder  was  reported  by  the 
medical  witness,  Mr.  Thomas  Kirkland,  a  surgeon  at  Ashby-de-la-Zouch, 
who  also  described  the  last  moments  of  Johnson,  the  victim,  in  the  fol- 
lowing examination : — 

Mr.  Attorney.  Did  any  discourse  pass  between  you  relating  to  their 
seizure  of  my  lord's  person  ? — Mr.  Kirkland.  My  lord  did  desire  that  I 
would  take  care  he  was  not  seized,  and  I  promised  him  I  would. 

Did  you  tell  him  how  you  meant  to  represent  it  ? — My  lord  asked  me, 
what  I  should  say  upon  the  occasion,  if  I  was  called  upon  ?  I  told  his 
lordship  I  should  say,  that,  though  Mr.  Johnson  was  shot,  yet  there  was 
a  great  probability  of  his  recovering  j  and  that  I  thought  there  was  no 
necessity  of  seizing  his  lordship.  His  lordship  then  asked  me,  if  I  would 
make  oath  of  that  before  a  justice  of  the  peace,  if  I  was  called  upon  ?  I 
said,  Yes. 

Where  was  this  ?  and  about  what  part  of  the  night  did  the  last  con- 
versation pass  * — It  was  in  the  parlour. 

What  time  was  it  ?  Was  it  an  hour  before  supper  ? — I  think  this  was 
before  supper  j  but  it  was  repeated  before  and  after  supper. 

Did  my  lord,  in  this  discourse,  say  any  thing  relating  to  Mr.  Johnson  ? 
— He  told  me,  that  Mr.  Johnson  had  long  been  a  villain  to  him.  He 
s;iid,  he  began  his  villainy  in  1753 ;  that  he  assisted  in  procuring  the  act 
of  parliament ;  that  he  was  in  the  interest  of  his  enemies  j  that,  on  Mr. 
Johnson's  first  coming  there  in  the  afternoon,  he  ordered  him  to  settle 
an  account.  He  then  told  him,  Johnson,  you  have  been  a  villain  to  me  j 
if  you  don't  sign  a  paper,  confessing  all  your  villainy,  I'll  shoot  you.  My 
lord  told  me  Johnson  would  not  sign  one.  Therefore,  says  he,  I  bid  him 
kneel  down  on  his  knees  to  ask  my  pardon.  I  said,  Johnson,  if  you  have 
any  thing  to  say,  speak  quickly.  Then,.said  he,  1  fired  at  him.  I  know 
he  did  not  think  I  would  have  shot  him  j  but  I  was  determined  to  do  it. 
I  was  quite  cool.  I  took  aim  5  for  I  always  aim  with  a  pistol  in  this 

Did  any  thing  pass  in  reference  to  the  farm  ? — My  lord  told  me  he  had 
long  wanted  to  drive  Johnson  out  of  his  farm  j  and  that  he  imagined, 
alter  he  recovered,  he  would  go  into  Cheshire,  from  whence  he  came, 
and  give  him  no  more  disturbance.  He  said  he  had  long  intended  to 
shoot  him  :  that  the  chief  reason  he  did  it  at  this  time  was,  an  affair  be- 
tween  Mr.  Curzon,  Mr.  Burslem,  and  his  lordship.  But  the  greatest 
part  of  this  discourse  was  at  the  time  that  my  lord  was  full  of  liquor. 

Was  he  so  full  of  liquor  as  to  be  deprived  of  his  understanding  ? — I 
think  not  j  he  seemed  to  understand  very  well  what  he  did. 

Was  he  in  liquor  when  you  first  saw  Kim  ? — Yes  j  not  much. 

Did  he  continue  drinking  during  the  time  you  saw  him  ? — He  was 
drinking  porter  -}  they  said  it  was  porter. 

Did  you  go  to  Mr.  Johnson  again  ? — Yes  ;  after  supper  I  went  up 
stairs  to  Mr.  Johnson  j  nothing  material  passed ;  but  my  lord  enquired 
what  I  thought  of  Mr.  Johnson  j  and  upon  my  setting  things  in  the  light 
I  thought  I  should,  my  lord  seemed  very  well  satisfied. 

Was  any  thing  said  about  the  bowels  or  guts  ? — My  lord  asked,  if  the 


bowels  were  wounded,  what  would  be  the  consequence  ?  I  said,  some 
had  had  wounds  in  their  bowels  and  recovered. 

There  was  an  expression  used,  that  the  bullet  was  lodged  in  the  ab- 
domen ;  was  that  your's  or  my  lord's  expression  ? — It  was  my  expression. 

Did  you  and  my  lord  sit  together  in  the  evening? — Yes. 

Was  any  wine  brought  ? — Yes  ;  Mrs.  Clifford  brought  a  bottle  of  wine, 
and  then  his  lordship  again  repeated,  that  he  had  shot  Johnson,  and  that 
he  intended  it. 

Was  there  any  thing  passed  between  you  relative  to  my  lord's  circum- 
stances ? — A  little  before  he  went  to  bed,  before  1  went  to  Mr.  Johnson 
the  last  time,  my  lord  said,  Kirkland,  I  know  you  can  set  this  affair  in 
such  a  light,  that  I  shall  not  be  seized  if  you  will  j  I  owe  you  a  bill,  you 
may  have  some  of  your  money  now,  and  the  rest  when  you  want  it  j  I 
told  his  lordship  I  did  not  want  money,  I  should  be  glad  to  receive  it 
when  it  was  most  convenient  to  him. 

Did  you  afterwards  see  my  lord  and  Mr.  Johnson  together  ? — Yes. 

What  passed  ? — My  lord  went  up  to  the  bedside,  and  spoke  it  tempe- 
rately ;  Johnson,  you  know  you  have  been  a  villain  to  me  ;  Mr.  Johnson 
made  no  answer,  but  desired  my  lord  to  let  him  alone  at  that  time :  my 
lord  kept  calling  of  him  villain  j  his  passion  rose,  and  he  began  to  pull 
the  bed-clothes,  and  said,  Have  you  not  been  a  villain?  Mr.  Johnson 
said,  My  lord,  I  may  have  been  wrong  as  well  as  others  :  upon  this,  my 
lord  run  up  in  a  violent  passion  to  the  bed-side,  I  thought  he  would  have 
struck  him ;  but  upon  Mr.  Johnson's  declaring  he  might  have  been  a 
villain  to  his  lordship,  my  lord  went  to  the  fire-side. 

How  came  Mr.  Johnson  to  make  that  answer? — I  winked  at  him,  and 
he  made  the  answer. 

Was  Miss  Johnson  in  the  room  ? — Yes  ;  my  lord  went  to  her,  after  he 
had  abused  her  father,  and  said,  Though  he  has  been  a  villain  to  me,  I 
promise  you  before  Kirkland,  who  I  desire  to  be  a  witness,  that  I  will 
take  care  of  your  family,  if  you  do  not  prosecute, 

Did  my  lord  go  out  of  the  room? — Yesj  he  went  down  stairs ;  he 
sent  for  me,  and  told  me,  he  was  afraid  he  had  made  Miss  Johnson  un- 
easy j  he  desired  I  would  tell  her,  he  would  be  her  friend  :  we  came  up 
stairs  together ;  his  lordship  asked  at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  whether  I 
thought  Mr,  Johnson  would  recover  :  I  replied,  Yes  j  he  said,  then  I  may 
go  to  bed  in  safety  j  he  went  to  bed  directly, 

What  passed  after? — The  first  thing  I  did  I  went  to  Mr.  Johnson,  who 
desired,  for  God's  sake,  that  I  would  remove  him  j  while  we  were  talk- 
ing, I  heard  my  lord  open  the  door,  and  call  up  his  pointer  :  Mr.  Johnson 
was  a  good  deal  alarmed  at  it,  fearing  my  lord  should  come  again  j  but 
my  lord  shut  the  door ;  then  he  again  entreated  me  to  remove  him. 

Was  any  proposal  made  to  remove  him  before  that  ? — Yes  j  Mrs.  Clif- 
ford came  down  before  that  into  the  still-room,  and  said,  Cannot  Johnson 
be  removed  ?  My  lord  replied,  No,  he  shall  not  be  removed,  till  he  be 
either  better  or  dead :  and  some  time  after  that  he  said,  he  was  glad  he 
had  him  in  the  house,  that  he  could  plague  the  rascal ;  or  some  such 

Why  did  you  propose  to  remove  him  ? — I  thought  it  prudent  for  many 
reasons  to  remove  him  ;  J  imagined,  Mr.  Johnson  would  die  j  and  if 
my  lord  came  and  found  him  dying,  his  resentment  would  rise  against 
me  ;  besides,  Mr.  Johnson  was  in  a  good  deal  of  apprehension  of  being 
again  shot ;  I  really  apprehended  he  might  die  through  fear,  for  he  was  a 


man  of  a  very  weak  constitution  ;  upon  this  I  went  to  the  Lount  and  got 
a  parcel  of  fellows,  and  placed  Mr.  Johnson  in  an  easy  chair,  and  carried 
him  upon  poles  to  the  Lount,  where  he  got  without  being  much  fatigued. 

Did  you  apprehend  that  the  moving  would  be  prejudicial  to  him,  con- 
sidering the  condition  he  was  in  ? — It  is  impossible  to  say  it  might  not; 
but  there  was  much  more  danger  in  leaving  him  at  Stanton ;  and  he  ex- 
pressed satisfaction  on  my  removing  him  :  when  he  came  there,  he  de- 
sired he  might  be  removed  from  one  room  where  he  was,  into  another  j 
for  he  said,  my  lord  might  come  and  shoot  him  there,  the  window  was 
facing  the  bed  ;  I  told  him,  he  might  make  himself  easy,  I  would  place 
a  sentry  at  each  door. 

At  what  time  was  Mr.  Johnson  removed  ? — I  believe  about  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning  ;  I  am  not  quite  certain  of  the  hour. 

How  long  did  he  live  after  that  ? — He  lived,  as  I  was  informed,  till 
about  nine  ;  I  did  not  leave  him  till  seven  o'clock. 

In  what  condition  was  he  when  you  left  him  ? — Weak  and  low,  and 
cold  in  the  extremities. 

What  was  your  judgment  about  him  ? — That  he  would  be  dead ;  he 
thought  so  himself. 

What  happened  after  he  was  dead  ? — Nothing  more  than  my  examining 
the  body. 

What  did  you  do  upon  that  ? — I  examined  it  the  next  day  when  the 
coroner's  inquest  was  taken. 

Did  you  give  an  account  of  the  wound  ? — The  ball  had  passed  just 
under  the  lowest  rib,  on  the  left  side,  through  one  of  the  guts,  and 
through  a  bone  we  call  the  "  os  inominatum/'  and  lodged  in  the  bone 
called  the  "  os  sacrum." 

Do  you  apprehend  that  Mr.  Johnson  died  of  that  wound  ? — I  do  ;  I  am 
clear  in  it. 

A  Mr.  Springthorpe,  examined  by  Mr.  Gould,  thus  related  the  seizure 
of  Lord  Ferrers. 

Was  you  present    at  the  time  of  taking  Lord  Ferrers  ? — Springthorpe. 

I  was. 

What  day  was  it  ? — On  Saturday  morning. 

What  time  in  the  morning? — I  believe  it  was  between  ten  and  eleven 

Had  you  a  multitude  of  people  with  you  ?•— The  first  part  of  the  time  I 
had  not ;  but  before  he  was  taken  there  were  a  great  many. 

Was  you  armed  ? — I  had  a  pistol  I  took  from  Mr.  Burslem's. 

Where  did  you  go  first  ? — I  went  to  see  Mr.  Johnson;  he  was  my 
friend,  and  I  found  he  was  dead.  Mr.  Burslem  desired  I  would  go  and 
help  to  take  Lord  Ferrers  :  I  condescended  to  do  it.  When  I  came  to  the 
hall  yard,  my  lord  in  a  few  minutes  came ;  he  seemed  to  be  going  to  the 
stable,  with  his  stockings  down,  and  his  garters  in  his  hands  ;  his  lord- 
ship seeing  me  demanded  to  know  what  I  wanted.  I  presented  my  pistol 
to  his  lordship,  and  I  said  it  was  he  I  wanted,  and  I  would  have  him ; 
he  put  his  hand,  whether  he  was  going  to  put  his  garters  into  his 
pocket,  or  to  pull  out  a  pistol,  I  cannot  say;  but  he  suddenly  run  into 
the  house.  I  never  saw  more  of  him  for  two  hours  ;  in  about  two  hours 
he  came  to  the  garret  window  ;  I  went  under  the  window ;  he  called  ;  I 
asked  him  what  he  wanted ;  he  said,  How  is  Johnson  ?  I  said  he  was 
dead  ;  he  said,  You  are  a  lying  scoundrel,  God  damn  you.  I  told  him  he  was 
dead ;  he  said,  I  will  not  believe  it  till  Kirkland  tells  me  so.  I  said  he 


was  dead  j  he  said,  Then  disperse  the  people,  and  I  will  go  and  surrender: 
let  the  people  in,  and  let  them  have  some  victuals  and  drink.  1  told  him 
I  did  not*  come  for  victuals,  but  for  him,  and  I  would  have  him.  He 
went  away  from  the  window  swearing  he  would  not  be  taken.  Two 
hours  after  that  there  was  a  report  that  he  was  upon  the  bowling-green ; 
I  was  at  this  part  of  the  house  :  I  run  there,  and,  by  the  time  I  got  there, 
I  saw  two  colliers  had  hold  of  his  lordship.  I  said,  I  would  take  care 
nobody  should  hurt  him.  I  took  from  a  man  that  had  hold  of  him,  a 
pistol  and  a  powder-horn  j  I  shot  the  pistol  off,  and  it  made  a  great  im- 
pression against  the  stones.  I  heard  my  lord  say,  he  had  shot  a  villain 
and  a  scoundrel,  and,  clapping  his  hand  upon  his  bosom,  he  said,  I  glory 
in  his  death.  That  is  all  I  know  of  the  matter. 

Lord  Ferrers  being  called  upon  for  his  defence,  applied  for  an  adjourn- 
ment to  the  following  day :  to  this  Lord  Mansfield  objected,  unless  the 
Earl  would  open  the  nature  of  his  defence,  or  give  some  reason  why  he 
was  not  then  prepared  to  go  on.  This  not  being  done,  the  Peers  returned 
to  the  Chamber  of  Parliament  to  debate  the  question,  and  on  their  coming 
back  into  Westminster  Hall,  the  Lord  High  Steward  announced  to  Lord 
Ferrers'that  he  was  forthwith  to  proceed  with  his  defence. 

Lord  Ferrers  then  addressed  the  Court  as  follows  :— 

Earl  Ferrers.  "  My  lords,  the  kind  of  defence  I  mentioned  to  your 
lordships  before,  I  really  don't  know  how  myself  to  enter  upon ;  it  is 
what  my  family  have  considered  for  me,  and  they  have  engaged  all  the 
evidence  that  are  to  be  examined  upon  this  unhappy  occasion,  who  I 
really  have  not  seen  j  I  do  not  well  know  what  they  have  to  say :  1  should, 
therefore,  hope  your  lordships  will  give  me  all  the  assistance  that  is  pos- 
sible in  their  examination. 

My  lords,  I  believe  that  what  I  have  already  mentioned  to  your  lord- 
ships, as  the  ground  of  this  defence,  has  been  a  family  complaint ;  and  I 
have  heard  that  my  own  family  have,  of  late,  endeavoured  to  prove  me 
such.  The  defence  I  mean  is  occasional  insanity  of  mindj  and  I  am 
convinced,  from  recollecting  within  myself,  that,  at  the  time  of  this  ac- 
tion, I  could  not  know  what  I  was  about.  I  say,  my  lords,  upon  reflec- 
ting within  myself,  I  am  convinced,  that,  at  that  time,  I  could  not  know 
what  I  was  about. 

It  has  been  too  plainly  proved,  that,  at  the  time  this  accident  happened, 
I  was  very  sober,  that  I  was  not  disordered  with  liquor  :  your  lordships 
will  observe,  from  the  evidence  both  of  Mr.  Kirkland  and  Miss  Johnson, 
that  it  plainly  appeared  that  this  man  never  suspected  there  was  any 
malice,  or  that  I  had  any." 

The  evidence  adduced  in  support  of  his  Lordship's  plea  of  insanity  will 
be  found  fully  summed  up,  and  commented  on,  in  the  reply  of  the 
Solicitor  General.  The  testimony  of  two  witnesses,  however,  was  of 
such  moment,  that  it  is  here  given  at  length.  The  first  of  these  was  the 
Hon.  and  Rev.  Walter  Shirley,  who  was  thus  examined  by  Earl  Ferrers. 

What  relation  are  you  to  me  ? — Brother. 

Do  you  know  any,  and  which,  of  the  family,  that  have  been  afflicted 
with  lunacy  ;  if  you  do,  please  to  mention  their  names  ? — I  believe  the 
prisoner  at  the  bar  has  that  misfortune, 

What  is  your  reason  for  such  belief? — I  have  many  reasons  for  it.  The 
first  is,  that  I  have  seen  him  several  times  talking  to  himself,  clenching 
his  fists,  grinning,  and  having  several  gestures  of  a  madman,  without 
any  seeming  cause  leading  thereto.  I  have  likewise  very  frequently  known 


him  extremely  suspicious  of  plots  and  contrivances  against  him  from  his 
own  family;  and,  when  he  was  desired  to  give  some  account  what  the 
plots  were  that  he  meant,  he  could  not  make  any  direct  answer. — Ano- 
ther reason  I  have  for  thinking  him  so  is,  his  falling  into  violent  passion, 
without  any  adequate  cause. 

Do  you  believe  that,  at  some  times,  I  have  been  hurried  into  violent 
fits,  so  as  not  to  know  the  distinction  between  a  moral  or  immoral  act  ? 
— I  believe,  at  those  times  when  my  lord  has  been  transported  by  this 
disease  of  lunacy,  that  he  has  not  been  able  to  distinguish  properly  be- 
tween moral  good  and  evil. 

Has  any  other  of  the  family,  besides  myself,  been  afflicted  with  lunacy? 
— I  have  heard -fstoptj 

Please  to  inform  their  lordships,  whether,  at  the  time  I  have  been 
transported  with  such  violent  fits,  they  have  been  the  effects  of  drink,  and 
whether  they  have  happened  when  I  was  sober  ? — Frequently  when  my 
lord  has  been  sober,  much  more  so  when  he  has  been  a  little  inflamed 
with  liquor. 

Do  you  know  of  any  intention  in  the  family  to  take  out  a  commission 
of  lunacy  against  me  ? — I  heard  it  talked  of. 

How  long  ago  ? — I  think  I  can  recollect  it  was  at  the  time  of  his  lord- 
ship's committing  the  outrage  at  Lord  Westmoreland's  house  that  it  was 
proposed  to  be  done  ;  but  afterwards  they  were  afraid  to  go  through 
with  it  ;  and  the  reason  given  was,  lest,  if  the  court  of  judicature  should 
not  be  thoroughly  satisfied  of  my  lord's  lunacy  upon  inspection,  that  the 
damage  would  be  very  great  to  those  that  should  attempt  it. 

Why  was  the  family  afraid  that  I  should  appear  in  the  courts  of  judi- 
cature to  be  in  my  senses  ? — Because  my  lord  had  frequently  such  long 
intervals  of  reason,  that,  we  imagined,  if  he,  on  the  inspection,  appeared 
reasonable,  the  court  would  not  grant  the  commission  against  him. 

What  damage  do  you  mean  that  the  family  was  apprehensive  of,  in  case 
the  court  should  refuse  a  commission? — We  apprehended  my  lord  would 
sue  us  for  scandalum  magnatum. 

Was  the  family  apprehensive  of  any  other  kind  of  damage  ? — I  know 
of  none. 

Att.  Gen.  My  lords,  I  did  not  intend  to  have  troubled  this  gentleman  ; 
but  from  what  he  has  said,  your  lordships  will  permit  me  to  ask  him  two 
or  three  questions ;  I  shall  do  it  very  tenderly,  and  with  as  much  pro- 
priety as  I  can. — In  giving  his  account  of  the  noble  lord's  state  of  mind, 
as  far  as  1  could  collect  it,  he  said,  that  he  had  more  reasons  than  one 
why  he  deemed  him  to  be  insane. 

Attorney  General.  Mr.  Shirley,  you  said  that  the  first  ground  was,  that 
his  lordship  would,  at  times,  talk  to  himself,  grin,  and  use  certain  ges- 
tures, proper  only  to  madmen — Now,  as  to  this  first  mark  of  insanity, 
was  this  frequently  the  case  of  his  lordship  ? — Very  frequently. 

Did  he,  at  those  times,  speak  loud,  or  use  any  intelligible  language  to 
himself? — He  did  not. 

Did  he,  at  such  times,  offer  to  commit  any  mischief,  or  betray  any 
marks  of  disorder,  while  in  that  situation  ? — I  do  not  recollect  any. 

Then,  as  far  as  I  can  understand  you,  at  those  times,  his  behaviour  in 
those  intervals  was  perfectly  innocent. — Yes. 

At  such  times  have  you  ever  entered  into  discourse  with  him  ? — No,  I 
do  not  remember. 


Did  you  never  ask  him  a  single  question  when  you  have  seen  him 
walking  backwards  and  forwards  in  the  way  you  mention?—!  don't 
remember  I  have. 

Did  you  never  hear  him  speak  at  such  times  to  other  persons  ? — Not 
whilst  he  continued  in  those  attitudes. 

I  don't  ask  ybu  whether  he  conversed  the  time  that  he  was  mute,  but 
within  a  quarter  or  half  an  hour  ? — I  am  not  certain. 

Your  next  ground  for  supposing  him  to  be  insane  was,  That  he  was 
accustomed  to  be  transported  into  passions  without  any  adequate  cause, 
were  those  the  words  ? — Without  any  seeming  cause. 

Was  not  "  adequate"  the  expression  you  used? — Yes. 

I  should  be  glad  to  know  whether  you  deem  every  man  that  is  trans- 
ported with  anger,  without  an  adequate  cause,  to  be  a  madman  ? — I 
deem  it  as  a  sign  of  madness  in  him  ;  but  there  were  other  causes. 

I  ask  you  a  general  question,  and  I  do  not  expect  a  particular  answer. 
Whether  you  deem  a  person  that  is  transported  with  fury  without  reason, 
to  be  a  madman  ? — I  think  a  person  may  be  transported  to  fury  without 
an  adequate  cause,  that  is  no  madman. 

Then  please  to  recollect  some  particular  instance  of  this  frantic  passion, 
and  state  it. — I  really  cannot  command  my  memory  so  far.  I  have  not 
seen  my  lord  these  two  years,  till  the  time  of  this  unhappy  confinement. 

Then  I  am  to  understand  you,  that  you  cannot  recollect  one  particular 
instance  j  Am  I  or  not  ? — I  cannot  recollect  any  at  this  time. 

Then  as  to  the  suspicion  of  plots  without  any  foundation ;  will  you 
please  to  enumerate  any  of  those  ? — He  never  himself  would  give  any 
particular  account  of  what  he  suspected,  only  that  he  did  suspect  that 
the  family  was  in  some  combination  against  him  -,  and  when  I  have  asked 
him,  What  it  was  that  he  meant  ?  he  would  never  give  me  a  direct  answer 
to  that  question. 

Does  that  kind  of  behaviour,  as  you  describe  it,  denote  a  man  out  of 
his  senses  r — I  thought  so.  I  was  so  fully  possessed  of  that  opinion, 
that  I  declared  to  other  people  long  ago,  that  I  thought  him  a  madman. 

Please  to  inform  their  lordships,  whether  the  unfortunate  earl  lived 
well  or  ill  with  his  family? — Indeed,  he  did  not  live  in  friendship  with  his 

Were  there  not  disputes  on  both  sides  ? — Yes,  there  were  j  his  younger 
brothers  and  sisters  were  under  the  unhappy  constraint  of  suing  for  their 

Then  please  to  inform  their  lordships,  whether,  in  truth,  there  was 
not  a  combination  in  the  family  against  him  ?  I  do  not  mean  a  criminal 
one. — I  am  very  certain  that  was  not  what  my  lord  alluded  to. 

If  you  are  certain  of  that,  you  can  inform  their  lordships  what  it  was 
that  he  alluded  to  ? — I  will  give  a  reason  why  I  am  certain  it  was  not 
that  j  because  it  appeared  to  be  some  secret  combination :  that  was  a 
thing  publicly  known. 

How  did  you  recollect  that  the  combination  was  secret  ? — By  my  lord's 
manner  of  expressing  himself. 

Can  you  recollect  the  phrase  or  the  words  he  used  ? — I  cannot. 

In  another  part  of  your  examination  you  was  asked,  whether  the  earl 
could  distinguish  between  good  and  evil  ?  You  said  he  could  not  dis- 
tinguish {hem  properly.  Was  he  at  that  time  less  able  to  distinguish 
properly  between  good  and  evil  than  any  other  man  that  is  transported 
into  a  violent  passion  ? — I  never  saw  any  man  so  transported. 


Did  be  express  himself  in  insensible  words,  so  as  that  you  could  dis- 
cover the  state  of  his  mind  ;  and  that  it  was  that  of  a  madman,  and  not 
a  man  in  passion  ? — I  considered  it  as  madness. 

Can  you  recollect  any  expression,  in  any  fit  of  passion  that  my  lord 
was  in,  that  might  not  as  well  have  come  from  the  mouth  of  any  other 
passionate  man  ? — Indeed  I  cannot. 

You  recollect  an  old  adage,  "  Ira  furor  brevis  est :"  do  you  believe 
that  his  was  such  madness  as  is  there  poetically  described  ? — I  believe 
that  it  really  proceeded  from  madness. 

Have  you  ever  seen  him  so  transported  upon  any  other  occasion  than 
that  of  anger?  Have  you  seen  any  appearance  of  that  kind  when  he  was 
cool  and  calm? — I  have  seen  him  break  into  passions  without  any  seem- 
ing cause. 

You  said  you  could  not  remember  any  instance,  when  the  question  was 
asked  you  ;  can  you  now  ? — I  remember  once  being  at  a  hunting  seat  at 
Quarendon  in  Leicestershire,  as  I  chose  to  avoid  the  bottle,  I  went  up 
stairs  to  the  ladies ;  Lady  Ferrers,  at  that  time,  lived  with  him  ;  and, 
without  any  previous  quarrel,  my  lord  came  up  stairs  into  the  room  j  and 
after  standing  for  some  time  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  he  broke  out  into 
the  grossest  abuse  of  me,  insulting  me,  and  swearing  at  me ;  and  I  can- 
not to  this  day  or  hour  conceive  any  reason  for  it. 

Had  you  never  any  dispute  or  quarrel  with  your  brother  ? — Not  at  that 

Might  not  you  have  had  some  quarrel  a  few  days  before  ? — No. 

Are  you  confident  of  that  ? — I  am  confident. 

Had  he  no  suspicion  at  that  time  of  you  interesting  yoiirself  with  re- 
spect to  my  Lady  Ferrers  ? — There  was  then  no  quarrel  existing. 

Had  there  never  been  a  quarrel  between  my  lord  and  my  lady  ? — I  think 
not ;  it  was  soon  after  his  marriage. 

The  other  witness  was  one  Elizabeth  Williams,  who  was  also  thus 
examined  by  the  Earl. 

How  long  have  you  known  Lord  Ferrers  > — A  great  many  years. 

Do  you  know  of  any  distemper  that  Lord  Ferrers  is  afflicted  with,  and 
what  is  it  ? — He  never  appeared  like  any  other  gentleman. 

Wherein  did  he  differ  from  any  other  people  in  general  ? — He  always 
was  a-musing  and  talking  to  himself.  He  spit  in  the  looking-glass,  tore 
the  pictures,  swearing  he  would  break  my  bureau  open,  and  would  break 
all  the  glasses  in  my  house,  and  would  throttle  me  if  I  would  not  let 
him  do  it. 

Had  he  any  particular  reason  for  this  conduct  ? — None  that  I  ever 
saw,  but  like  a  delirious  man, 

Did  you  keep  a  public-house  ? — Yes. 

How  near  did  you  live  to  my  lord? — My  lord  was  at  my  house, 
and  boarded  with  me. 

Are  you  the  wife  of  the  witness  Williams? — Yes. 

Where  did  Lord  Ferrers  live,  at  the  time  he  behaved  in  that  odd  man- 
ner you  speak  of? — He  had  lodgings  at  Muswell-Hill. 

How  far  did  you  live  from  him  ? — Two  miles,  to  the  best  of  my 
knowledge;  he  frequently  used  to  come;  I  have  made  him  coffee  and 
sent  up  a  dish,  he  always  drank  it  out  of  the  spout,  which  surprised  me, 
that  I  thought  him  delirious. 

How  long  ago  is  that  ? — I  believe  it  is  about  twelve  months  ago,  to 
the  best  of  my  knowledge. 


Have  you  often  seen  Lord  Ferrers  behave  in  that  manner  ?— I  never 
saw  him  behave  like  any  other  gentleman  in  my  life. 

Was  the  coffee  hot  when  he  drank  it  out  of  the  spout? — Hot.  He 
always  went  about  the  town  like  a  madman,  throttled  me,  and  threw  me 
down  in  the  yard,  one  day  when  he  took  the  horse  away. 

Did  you  think  Lord  Ferrers  a  madman  ? — I  know  he  was  by  all 

Was  he  generally  thought  so  by  other  people  ? — By  all  the  whole 

A  Lord.  When  he  threatened  to  break  open  your  bureau,  and  to  use 
you  ill  if  you  did  not  let  him  do  it,  was  he  in  liquor  ? — El.  Williams. 
Sober  as  I  am  now. 

A  Lord.  Did  you  ever,  upon  any  occasion  when  he  committed  these 
outrages,  observe  that  he  had  been  drinking  ? — El.  Williams.  Never ; 
he  never  drank  in  the  morning  but  a  little  tea,  or  coffee,  or  some  broth. 

Earl  Ferrers.  Have  you  ever  seen  me  commit  any  other  acts  of 
outrage  besides  those  you  have  mentioned  ? — A  great  many  more  that 
are  worse. 

Name  them. — Swearing,  cursing,  and  damning  us  ;  and  wishing  us  all 
at  hell,  and  himself  at  hell  j  and  threatened  to  break  the  glasses  j 
and  talked  to  himself  for  hours  together  in  bed. 

Was  he  drunk  or  sober  at  those  times  ? — Very  rarely  j  but  he  seemed 
more  to  be  disturbed  in  his  mind. 

Mention  the  circumstance  about  my  coming  for  the  mare. — My  lord 
came  for  the  mare,  it  was  at  church-time,  and  brought  his  servants,  and 
a  hammer  in  his  hand,  and  guns,  with  a  tuck  in  his  hand,  and  broke  the 
stable  door  open  by  violence  of  arms,  and  knocked  me  down  with  his 
arm,  and  run  the  tuck  into  my  husband,  fetched  the  blood,  I  was  obliged  to 
have  a  surgeon  to  attend  him  -,  and  took  the  mare  away  by  force  of  arms  j 
and  if  any  body  came  to  hinder  him,  he  said  he  would  blow  their  brains 
out.  He  always  had  pistols  nobody  knew  of.  I  never  saw  any  gentle- 
man that  came  to  my  house  before,  that  had  those  things  about  them. 
I  used  to  like  to  take  them  out  of  his  bed-chamber,  but  was  afraid  to 
touch  them,  for  fear  of  what  he  should  do  to  me  himself,  by  seeing  his 
mind  so  disturbed. 

Were  those  outrages  committed  when  he  was  drunk  or  sober? — 
Sober  for  the  general ;  and  when  he  took  the  mare  away,  as  sober  as  he 
is  now. 

Earl  of  Hardwicke.  Inform  their  lordships,  whether,  before  my  lord 
came  in  this  manner  to  get  the  mare  out  of  the  stable,  he  had  before 
sent  any  servant  to  demand  the  mare,  and  had  been  refused  ? — Williams. 
Yes,  he  had,  the  boy  was  gone  to  church.  We  always  kept  it  under 
lock,  because  there  was  more  of  his  lordship's  horses ;  and  nobody  was 
to  go  into  the  stable  but  his  lordship's  ostler. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  evidence  of  insanity,  the  Earl  put  in  a  paper 
which  was  read  by  the  clerk,  and  ran  as  follows  : — 

My  lords  :  It  is  my  misfortune  to  be  accused  of  a  crime  of  the  most 
horrid  nature.  My  defence  is,  in  general,  that  I  am  Not  Guilty  :  the 
fact  of  Homicide  is  proved  against  me  by  witnesses,  who,  for  aught  I 
can  say,  to  the  contrary,  speak  truly. 

But  if  I  know  myself  at  this  time,   I  can  truly  affirm,  I  was  ever 


incapable  of  it,  knowingly :  if  I  have  done  and  said  what  has  been 
alleged,  I  must  have  been  deprived  of  my  senses. 

I  have  been  driven  to  the  miserable  necessity  of  proving  my  own 
want  of  understanding;  and  *im  told,  the  law  will  not  allow  me 
the  assistance  of  counsel  in  this  nase,  in  which,  of  all  others,  I  should 
think  it  most  wanted. 

The  more  I  stand  in  need  of  assistance,  the  greater  reason  I  have  to 
hope  for  it  from  your  lordships. 

Witnesses  have  been  called  to  prove  my  insanity — to  prove  an  unhappy 
disorder  of  mind,  and  which  I  am  grieved  to  be  under  the  necessity  of 

If  they  have  not  directly  proved  me  so  insane  as  not  to  know  the 
difference  between  a  moral  and  immoral  action,  they  have  at  least  proved 
that  I  was  liable  to  be  driven  and  hurried  into  that  unhappy  condition 
upon  very  slight  occasions. 

Your  lordships  will  consider  whether  my  passion,  rage,  madness  (or 
whatever  it  may  be  called)  was  the  effect  of  a  weak  or  distempered 
mind,  or  whether  it  arose  from  my  own  wickedness,  or  inattention 
to  my  duty. 

If  I  could  have  controlled  my  rage,  I  am  answerable  for  the  conse- 
quences of  it.  But  if  I  could  not,  and  if  it  was  the  mere  effect  of  a 
distempered  brain,  I  am  not  answerable  for  the  consequences. 

My  lords,  I  mention  these  things  as  hints — I  need  not,  indeed  I 
cannot,  enlarge  upon  this  subject :  your  lordships  will  consider  all  cir- 
cumstances, and  I  am  sure  you  will  do  me  justice. 

If  it  be  but  a  matter  of  doubt,  your  lordships  will  run  the  hazard 
of  doing  me  injustice,  if  you  find  me  guilty. 

My  lords,  if  my  insanity  had  been  of  my  own  seeking,  as  the  sudden 
effect  of  drunkenness,  I  should  be  without  excuse.  But  it  is  proved,  by 
witnesses  for  the  crown,  that  I  was  not  in  liquor. 

Mr.  Kirkland,  who  drank  and  conversed  with  me,  in  order  to  betray 
me,  (Mr.  Attorney  may  commend  his  caution,  but  not  his  honesty,)  re- 
presents me  the  most  irrational  of  all  madmen,  at  the  time  of  my  doing 
a  deed  which  I  reflect  upon  with  the  utmost  abhorrence. 

The  Counsel  for  the  Crown  will  put  your  lordships  in  mind  of  every 
circumstance  against  me  ;  I  must  require  of  your  lordships'  justice,  to 
recollect  every  circumstance  on  the  other  side. 

My  life  is  in  your  hands,  and  I  have  every  thing  to  hope,  as  my 
conscience  does  not  condemn  me  of  the  crime  I  stand  accused  of ;  for  I 
had  no  preconceived  malice ;  and  was  hurried  into  the  perpetration 
of  this  fatal  deed  by  the  fury  of  a  disordered  imagination. 

To  think  of  this,  my  lords,  is  an  affliction,  which  can  be  aggravated 
only  by  the  necessity  of  making  it  my  defence. 

May  God  Almighty  direct  your  judgments,  and  correct  my  own  ! 

Earl  Ferrers.  My  lords,  I  will  mention  one  circumstance,  which  I  did 
speak  of  yesterday  j  it  was  said,  that  I  knew  of  a  lease  Johnson  had, 
but  it  has  never  been  proved  j  therefore,  I  imagine,  that  what  I  asserted, 
that  I  did  not  know  of  it,  must  be  admitted  as  truth. 

L.  H.  S.     Earl  Ferrers,  Hath  your  lordship  any  thing  further  to  offer  ? 

Earl  Ferrers.     No. 

The  Solicitor  General,  the  Hon.  Charles  Yorke,  afterwards  Lord 
Chancellor,  made  a  long  and  elaborate  reply  on  the  part  of  the  Crown. 
VOL.  iv.  NO.  xv.  D 


From  it  is  here  extracted  the  portion  which  bore  upon  the  prisoner's  de- 
fence of  insanity. 

Sol.  Gen.  "  My  lords,  what  is  the  evidence  produced  by  the  noble  lord  ? 
In  the  first  place,  there  is  none  which  applies  to  the  time  of  committing 
the  fact.  His  sobriety  is  admitted,  and  drunkenness  would  not  excuse  ; 
and  even  supposing  it  had  appeared  to  your  lordships,  that  the  noble 
prisoner  was  sometimes,  by  fits  and  starts,  under  a  degree  of  lunacy  or 
temporary  insanity  j  yet  if  he  was  of  sound  mind  at  that  hour,  he  is  a 
person  within  all  the  rules  and  distinctions  which  Lord  Hale  explain?. 
But,  my  lords,  in  the  next  place,  I  must  observe,  that  no  general 
evidence  has  been  offered,  which  proves  his  lunacy  or  insanity  at 
any  time  ;  for  his  own  witnesses  fail  in  their  endeavours  to  shew  it. 
This  appears  from  their  manner  of  expressing  themselves  in  their  origi- 
nal examination  j  but  still  more  in  the  answers,  which  they  gave  to  the 
questions  asked  upon  the  cross-examination. 

The  two  first  witnesses  called  were,  Mr.  Benefold,  and  Mr.  Goostrey. 
They  describe  the  insanity  of  the  noble  lord  at  the  bar  to  consist  of 
flights.  They  say,  that  he  would  swear;  would  talk  to  himself;  that 
he  would  use  strange  gestures ;  that  he  had  friends,  and  suspected  them  ; 
that  he  was  of  a  positive  temper,  and  difficult  to  be  dissuaded  from  any 
opinion  or  resolution  which  he  had  once  formed.  But  Mr.  Bennefold, 
upon  the  cross-examination,  admitted,  that  he  never  knew  of  any  act  of 
wildness  done  by  his  lordship,  nor  any  physician  sent  for,  to  take  care  of 
him  in  that  respect.  He  said,  upon  the  whole,  that  he  thought  Lord 
Ferrers  had  better  parts  and  understanding  than  ordinary  men.  Mr. 
Goostrey  told  your  lordships,  upon  the  cross-examination,  that  he 
had  done  business  several  years  for  Lord  Ferrers;  that  he  had  advised 
and  prepared  deeds  for  his  lordship  to  execute  ;  that  he  had  assisted  in 
suffering  a  recovery  to  bar  the  entail  of  the  estate  ;  and  admitted  his 
sense  and  capacity  in  general,  but  inferred  insanity  from  positive- 
ness  of  temper  and  opinion.  However,  in  answer  to  a  question  proposed 
by  one  of  your  lordships,  he  said,  that  he  thought  Lord  Ferrers  capable 
of  distinguishing  between  moral  and  immoral  actions. 

Several  other  witnesses  have  been  called  to-day.  I  will  first  mention 
Mr.  Clarges.  He  describes  similar  circumstances  with  Mr.  Bennefold 
and  Mr.  Goostrey,  from  which  he  collects  the  insanity  of  the  noble 
prisoner.  He  said,  that  he  had  observed  great  oddities  in  my  lord, 
during  his  minority,  but  no  defect  of  understanding.  He  could  not 
specify  particular  instances ;  and  added,  that  his  lordship  was  jealous 
and  suspicious  :  but  the  witness  never  saw  him  in  such  a  situation, 
as  not  to  be  capable  of  distinguishing  between  good  and  evil,  and  not  to 
know,  that  murder  was  a  great  crime. 

My  lords,  this  account  of  the  state  of  the  noble  prisoner's  mind 
is  consistent,  not  only  with  a  considerable  degree  of  understanding,  but 
with  the  highest  degree  of  it.  If  the  law  were  to  receive  such  excuses, 
it  would  put  a  sword  into  the  hand  of  every  savage  and  licentious  man, 
to  disturb  private  life,  and  public  order. 

My  lords,  there  was  another  witness  of  a  different  and  a  much  lower 
sort  than  those  whom  I  have  named  ;  I  mean  Elizabeth  Williams.  She 
was  the  only  person  who  said,  that  the  noble  Earl  was  always  mad. 
When  she  came  to  explain  the  instances  from  which  bhe  drew  that  con- 
clusion, the  principal  one  insisted  upon  was  ridiculous  ;  the  anger  which 
he  shewed  against  a  servant,  who  had  neglected  to  take  care  of  a 


favourite  mare,  intrusted  to  his  management.  This  was  a  vivacity 
so  natural,  that  if  it  be  deemed  a  symptom  of  madness,  few  are  free 
from  it  j  and  I  doubt  the  inference  will  go  far  in  cases  of  common  life. 

The  two  next  witnesses,  whom  I  will  mention,  are  the  brothers  of  the 
noble  Earl,  My  lords,  I  own  I  felt  for  them.  It  gave  me  pain  to 
see  them,  in  a  cause  which  touches  a  brother's  life,  brought  to  the 
bar  as  witnesses,  to  mitigate  the  consequences  of  one  misfortune, 
by  endeavouring  to  prove  another  of  the  most  tender  and  affecting 
nature  ;  and  if  they  had  spoke  stronger  to  matters  of  conjecture,  opinion, 
and  belief,  for  my  part,  I  could  easily  have  excused  them. 

My  lords,  they  both  spoke  vviih  caution,  and  as  men  of  honour  ;  but 
one  of  them  was  the  only  witness  of  weight,  who  expressed  a  belief, 
that,  at  particular  times,  the  noble  lord  might  not  be  able  to  distinguish 
between  moral  good  and  evil.  I  did  not  observe,  that  he  spoke  of  any 
instance  within  his  own  recollection.  The  circumstances,  from  which 
these  gentlemen  inferred  insanity,  were  for  the  most  part  of  the  same 
kind  with  those  which  came  from  the  mouths  of  the  other  witnesses. 
They  did  not  carry  the  marks  of  it  in  the  least  degree  beyond  that 
evidence.  And  Mr.  Walter  Shirley  admitted,  that  the  noble  lord  at  the 
bar  had  long  intervals  of  reason.  I  endeavour  to  repeat  the  expression, 
and  I  think  it  was  so.  Mr.  Robert  Shirley  told  your  lordships,  that 
he  had  not  seen  the  noble  prisoner  for  four  years  past ;  that  the  last 
time  of  seeing  Lord  Ferrers  was,  at  Burton  upon  Trent.  He  mentioned 
the  carrying  of  pistols,  and  a  large  case  knife,  at  that  time.  I  under- 
stood him  to  say,  that  the  noble  lord  generally  did  so  ;  the  witness  had 
seen  it  only  once ;  but  from  that  circumstance  he  argued  insanity. 
Your  lordships  will  judge,  whether  this  practice  might  not  be  owing  to 
jealousy  and  violence  of  temper,  as  well  as  to  lunacy  and  madness. 
The  witness  added,  that  he  had  written  formerly  to  his  brother  Captain 
Washington  Shirley,  about  taking  out  a  commission  of  lunacy  against 
Lord  Ferrers ;  but  I  could  not  find,  that  any  measures  were  taken  in 
consequence  of  that  opinion  given  by  the  witness,  nor  did  he  himself 
ever  take  any  steps  towards  it,  nor  any  branch  of  his  family. 

The  last  witness  called,  on  behalf  of  the  noble  prisoner,  was  Doctor 
Monro.  He  was  brought  here  to  describe,  what  symptoms  he  considers 
as  marks  of  lunacy  or  insanity.  He  said,  that  there  were  many;  and  on 
being  asked  particularly,  as  to  the  several  symptoms  suggested  in  this 
cause,  Doctor  Monro  was  led  to  speak  principally  of  three  marks  of 
lunacy.  The  first  was  common  fury,  not  caused  by  liquor,  but  raised  by 
it.  Surely  this  circumstance  will  not  infer  insanity.  The  next  was, 
jealousy  and  suspicion,  with  causeless  quarrelling.  Do  not  many,  who 
are  not  lunatics,  suspect  or  quarrel  without  cause,  and  become  dangerous 
to  their  neighbours?  The  third  was,  carrying  arms;  which  (he  said) 
though  less  usual,  might  be  a  mark  of  lunacy.  And  it  is  equally  true, 
that  such  behaviour  may  prove,  in  many  cases,  a  bad  heart  and  vicious 
mind,  as  well  as  lunacy.  My  lords,  the  general  observation,  which 
occurs  upon  Dr.  Monro's  evidence,  is  this ;  that  he  did  not  describe  any 
of  those  things^  as  absolute  marks  of  lunacy,  so  as  to  denote  every  man 
a  lunatic,  who  was  subject  to  them.  Indeed  he  could  not  have  said  it, 
consistently  with  common  sense  arid  experience. 

This  was  the  import  of  the  evidence  of  the  noble  prisoner  No  wit- 
nesses were  offered,  on  the  part  of  the  King,  in  reply  to  that  evidence, 


And,  my  lords,  the  reason  why  they  were  not  offered  was,  because  the 
counsel  who  attended  your  lordships  for  the  King,  choose  to  submit  it  to 
your  opinions,  whether  the  evidence  produced  for  the  prisoner  does  not 
tend  to  strengthen,  rather  than  weaken,  that  proof  of  capacity,  which 
arises  out  of  all  circumstances  urged,  in  support  of  the  charge  ?  From 
those  circumstances,  I  have  already  shewn,  that  the  noble  prisoner  was 
conscious  of  what  he  did,  at  the  time  of  the  offence  committed  j  that  he 
weighed  the  motives  j  that  he  acted  with  deliberation ,  that  he  knew 
the  consequences. 

I  will  only  take  notice  of  one  thing  more.  Your  lordships  have 
attended  with  great  patience,  and  the  most  impartial  regard  to  justice, 
to  all  the  evidence,  and  every  observation,  which  has  been  laid  before 
you.  You  have  seen  the  noble  prisoner,  for  two  days  at  your  bar 
(though  labouring  under  the  weight  of  this  charge),  cross-examining  the 
witnesses  for  the  King,  and  examining  his  own  in  a  manner  so  pertinent, 
as  cannot  be  imputed  merely  to  the  hints  and  advice  of  those  agents  and 
counsel,  with  which  you  have  indulged  him.  I  am  persuaded,  from  the 
appearance  and  conduct  of  the  noble  prisoner,  that  if  the  fact  itself 
would  have  admitted  doubts,  and  probable  arguments,  to  repel  the  force 
of  any  one  material  circumstance,  your  lordships  would  have  heard  him 
press  those  arguments,  with  sense  and  sagacity. 

But,  my  lords,  the  truth  is,  that  the  fact  tried  this  day  stands  without 
alleviation.  There  is  not  a  colour  for  the  defence,  unless  it  arises  from 
the  enormity  of  the  crime,  aggravated  by  the  manner  of  committing  it ; 
an  old,  faithful  servant  of  himself  and  his  family,  murdered  in  cold  blood, 
whilst  he  was  performing,  by  express  orders,  an  act  of  dutiful  attendance 
upon  his  master ;  murdered  in  the  most  deliberate  and  wilful  manner, 
destructive  of  all  confidence  in  human  society.  My  lords,  in  some  sense, 
every  crime  proceeds  from  insanity.  All  cruelty,  all  brutality,  all 
revenge,  all  injustice,  is  insanity.  There  were  philosophers,  in  ancient 
times,  who  held  this  opinion,  as  a  strict  maxim  of  their  sect ;  and, 
my  lords,  the  opinion  is  right  in  philosophy,  but  dangerous  in  judicature. 
It  may  have  a  useful  and  a  noble  influence,  to  regulate  the  conduct 
of  men  ;  to  controul  their  impotent  passions ;  to  teach  them,  that 
virtue  is  the  perfection  of  reason,  as  reason  itself  is  the  perfection 
of  human  nature;  but  not  to  extenuate  crimes,  nor  to  excuse  those 
punishments,  which  the  law  adjudges  to  be  their  due. 

My  lords,  the  necessity  of  his  Majesty's  justice;  the  necessity  of 
public  example,  called  for  this  prosecution  ;  and  the  effect  of  the  whole 
evidence  is  submitted  to  the  weight  and  wisdom  of  your  judgment/' 

The  peers  unanimously  found  Lord  Ferrers  guilty,  and  on  the  18th 
April,  the  third  day  of  the  trial,  the  Earl  was  brought  up  for  judgment. 
His  lordship  being  called  upon  to  say  why  sentence  of  death  should  not 
pass,  thus  addressed  the  Court  through  the  clerk. 

"  My  lords,  I  must  acknowledge  myself  infinitely  obliged  for  the  fair  and 
candid  trial  your  lordships  have  indulged  me  with. 

I  am  extremely  sorry  that  I  have  troubled  your  lordships  with  a  defence 
that  I  was  always  much  averse  to,  and  has  given  me  the  greatest  un- 
easiness ;  but  was  prevailed  on  by  my  family  to  attempt  it,  as  it  was 
what  they  themselves  were  persuaded  of  the  truth  of;  and  had  proposed 
to  prove  me  under  the  unhappy  circumstances  that  have  been  ineffec- 
tually represented  to  your  lordships. 


This  defence  has  put  me  off  from  what  I  proposed,  and  what  perhaps 
might  have  taken  off  the  malignity  of  the  accusation  ;  but,  as  there  has 
been  no  proof  made  to  your  lordships,  can  only  be  deemed  at  this  time 
my  own  assertion  j  but  that  I  must  leave  to  your  lordships. 

My  lords,  I  have  been  informed  of  this  intention  of  the  family  before ; 
and  your  lordships,  I  hope,  will  be  so  good  to  consider,  the  agony  of  mind 
a  man  must  be  under,  when  his  liberty  and  property  are  both  attacked : 
my  lords,  under  these  unhappy  circumstances,  though  the  plea  I  have 
attempted  was  not  sufficient  to  acquit  me  to  your  lordships,  according  to 
the  laws  of  this  country  j  yet  I  hope  your  lordships  will  think,  that  ma- 
lice, represented  by  the  counsel  for  the  crown,  could  not  subsist  ;  as  I 
was  so  unhappy  as  to  have  no  person  present  at  the  time  of  the  fatal 
accident,  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  shew  your  lordships,  that  I  was  not 
at  that  instant  possessed  of  my  reason. 

As  the  circumstances  of  my  case  are  fresh  in  your  lordships'  memories, 
I  hope  your  lordships  will,  in  compassion  to  my  infirmities,  be  kind 
enough  to  recommend  me  to  his  majesty's  clemency. 

My  lords,  as  I  am  uncertain  whether  my  unhappy  case  is  within  the 
late  act  of  parliament,  if  your  lordships  should  be  of  opinion  that  it  is,  I 
humbly  hope  the  power  of  respiting  the  execution  will  be  extended  in 
my  favour,  that  I  may  have  an  opportunity  of  preparing  myself  for  the 
great  event,  and  that  my  friends  may  be  permitted  to  have  access  to  me. 

If  any  thing  I  have  offered  should  be  thought  improper,  I  hope  your 
lordships  will  impute  it  to  the  great  distress  I  am  under  at  this  juncture." 

Lord  High  Steward.  Has  your  lordship  any  thing  else  to  offer  ? — Earl 
Ferrers.  No. 

Proclamation  was  then  made  for  silence. 

Lord  High  Steward.  "  Lawrence  Earl  Ferrers  ;  His  majesty,  from  his 
royal  and  equal  regard  to  justice,  and  his  steady  attention  to  our  consti- 
tution, (which  hath  endeared  him  in  a  wonderful  manner  to  the  universal 
duty  and  affection  of  his  subjects)  hath  commanded  this  inquiry  to  be 
made,  upon  the  blood  of  a  very  ordinary  subject,  against  your  lordship, 
a  peer  of  this  realm  :  your  lordship  hath  been  arraigned  ;  hath  pleaded, 
and  put  yourself  on  your  peers  ;  and  they  (whose  judicature  is  founded 
and  subsists  in  wisdom,  honour,  and  justice)  have  unanimously  found 
your  lordship  guilty  of  the  felony  and  murder  charged  in  the  indictment. 

It  is  usual,  my  lord,  for  courts  of  justice,  before  they  pronounce  the 
dreadful  sentence  pronounced  by  the  law,  to  open  to  the  prisoner  the 
nature  of  the  crime  of  which  he  is  convicted  ;  not  in  order  to  aggravate 
or  afflict,  but  to  awaken  the  mind  to  a  due  attention  to,  and  consideration 
of,  the  unhappy  situation  into  which  he  hath  brought  himself. 

My  lord,  the  crime  of  which  your  lordship  is  found  guilty,  murder,  is 
incapable  of  aggravation  j  and  it  is  impossible,  but  that,  during  your  lord- 
ship's long  confinement,  you  must  have  reflected  upon  it,  represented  to 
your  mind  in  the  deepest  shades,  and  with  all  its  train  of  dismal  and  de- 
testable consequences. 

As  your  lordship  hath  received  no  benefit,  so  you  can  derive  no  con- 
solation from  that  refuge  you  seemed  almost  ashamed  to  take,  under  a 
pretended  insanity  ;  since  it  hath  appeared  to  us  all,  from  your  cross- 
examination  of  the  king's  witnesses,  that  you  recollected  the  minutest 
circumstances  of  facts  and  conversations,  to  which  you  and  the  witnesses 
only  could  be  privy,  with  the  exactness  of  a  memory  more  than  ordinary 


sound  ;  it  is  therefore  as  unnecessary  as  it  would  be  painful  to  me,  to 
dwell  longer  on  a  subject  so  black  and  dreadful. 

It  is  with  much  more  satisfaction,  that  I  can  remind  your  lordship, 
that  though,  from  the  present  tribunal,  before  which  you  now  stand,  you 
can  receive  nothing  but  strict  and  equal  justice ;  yet  you  are  soon  to 
appear  before  an  Almighty  Judge,  whose  unfathomable  wisdom  is  able, 
by  means  incomprehensible  to  our  narrow  capacities,  to  reconcile  justice 
with  mercy ;  but  your  lordship's  education  must  have  informed  you,  and 
you  are  now  to  remember,  such  beneficence  is  only  to  be  obtained  by 
deep  contrition,  sound,  unfeigned,  and  substantial  repentance. 

Confined  strictly,  as  your  lordship  must  be,  for  the  very  short  re- 
mainder of  your  life,  according  to  the  provision  of  the  late  act  $  yet,  from 
the  wisdom  of  the  legislature,  which,  to  prevent  as  much  as  possible, 
this  heinous  and  horrid  offence  of  murder,  hath  added  infamy  to  death  -, 
you  will  be  still,  if  you  please,  entitled  to  converse  and  communicate 
with  the  ablest  divines  of  the  Protestant  church,  to  whose  pious  care  and 
consolation,  in  fervent  prayer  and  devotion,  I  most  cordially  recommend 
your  lordship. 

Nothing  remains  for  me,  but  to  pronounce  the  dreadful  sentence  of 
the  law ;  and  the  judgment  of  the  law  is,  and  this  high  court  doth  award, 

That  you,  Lawrence  Earl  Ferrers,  return  to  the  prison  of  the  Tower, 
from  whence  you  came  ;  from  thence  you  must  be  led  to  the  place  of 
execution,  on  Monday  next,  being  the  21st  day  of  this  instant  April  j  and 
when  you  come  there,  you  must  be  hanged  by  the  neck  till  you  are  dead, 
and  your  body  must  be  dissected  and  anatomized. 

And  God  Almighty  be  merciful  to  your  soul !" 

The  prisoner  was  removed  from  the  bar  by  the  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower. 
The  commission  of  the  High  Steward  was  then  dissolved,  and  the  Court 

The  following  account  of  the  execution  of  Earl  Ferrers  is  to  be  found 
attached  to  most  reports  extant,  of  his  lordship's  trial. 

The  Sheriffs,  on  Monday,  the  5th  day  of  May,  1761,  being  attended 
by  their  under- sheriffs,  and  other  proper  officers,  went  to  the  outward 
gate  of  the  Tower  of  London,  and  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  sent 
notice  to  the  Lieutenant  that  they  were  there,  ready  to  receive  the  body 
of  Lawrence  Earl  Ferrers,  Viscount  Tamwortb,  pursuant  to  the  King's 
writ  in  that  behalf. 

His  lordship  being  informed  of  it,  sent  a  message  to  the  sheriffs, 
requesting  their  permission  that  he  might  go  in  his  own  landau,  which 
was  waiting  for  him  at  the  Tower,  instead  of  the  mourning- coach 
which  had  been  provided  by  his  friends ;  which  request  being  granted, 
his  lordship,  attended  by  the  Reverend  Mr.  Humphreys,  the  chaplain  of 
the  Tower,  entered  into  his  landau,  drawn  by  six  horses,  and  was 
conducted  in  it,  by  the  officers  of  the  Tower,  to  the  outward  gate,  and 
there  delivered  into  the  custody  of  the  sheriffs,  upon  their  giving 
the  following' receipt  : 

'%  Tower-Hill,  5th May,  1760. 

"  Received  then  of  Charles  Rainsford,  Esq.,  Deputy- Lieutenant  of  the 
Tower  of  London,  the  body  of  the  within-named  Lawrence  Earl  Ferrers, 
Viscount  Tamworth,  delivered  to  us  in  obedience  of  the  King's  writ,  of 
which  the  within  is  a  tpuc  copy. — GEO.  ERRINGTON,  PAUL  VAILLANT, 
Sheriffs  of  London  and  Sheriff  of  Middlesex." 


Mr.  Sheriff  Vaillant  accompanied  his  lordship  in  the  landau  from  the 
Tower  gate  to  the  place  of  execution  j  and,  upon  his  entrance  into  it, 
addressing  himself  to  his  lordship,  he  told  him,  That  it  gave  him 
the  highest  concern  to  wait  upon  him  upon  so  melancholy  an  occasion, 
but  he  would  do  everything  in  his  power  to  render  his  situation  as  easy 
as  possible  j  and  hoped  that,  whatever  he  did,  his  lordship  would  impute 
to  the  necessary  discharge  of  his  duty. — To  which  his  lordship  answered, 
Sir,  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  I  take  it  very  kindly  that  you  are 
pleased  to  accompany  me. — His  lordship  being  dressed  in  a  suit  of  light 
clothes,  embroidered  with  silver,  said,  You  may,  perhaps,  Sir,  think 
it  strange  to  see  me  in  this  dress,  but  I  have  my  particular  reasons  for  it. 

The  civil  and  military  powers  attended  the  sheriffs  from  thence  to  the 
place  of  execution,  and  the  procession  was  as  follows : — 

First,  a  very  large  body  of  the  constables  for  the  county  of  Middle- 
sex (the  greatest  probably  that  ever  had  been  assembled  together  on  any 
occasion),  preceded  by  one  of  the  high-constables. 

Then  a  party  of  horse-grenadiers,  and  a  party  of  foot  j 

Then  Mr.  Sheriff  Errington  in  his  chariot,  accompanied  therein  by  his 
under-sheriff  Mr.  Jackson  j 

Then  followed  the  landau,  escorted  by  two  other  of  horse-grenadiers 
and  foot ; 

Then  Mr.  Sheriff  Vaillant's  chariot,  in  which  was  his  under-sheriff  Mr. 
Nicolls ; 

Then  a  mourning  coach  and  six  ; 

And,  lastly,  a  hearse  and  six,  which  was  provided  for  the  conveyance 
of  his  lordship's  corpse  from  the  place  of  execution  to  Surgeons-Hall. 

The  procession  was  conducted  with  the  utmost  solemnity ;  but  moved 
so  very  slow,  that  it  did  not  reach  the  place  of  execution  till  a  quarter  before 
twelve,  so  that  his  lordship  was  two  hours  and  three  quarters  in  the  landau  ; 
during  the  whole  of  which  time  he  appeared  to  be  perfectly  easy  and 
composed,  and  his  decent  deportment  seemed  greatly  to  affect  the  minds 
of  all  who  beheld  him  ;  insomuch  that  although  his  lordship  thus  passed 
many  hundred  thousand  spectators,  yet  so  respectful  was  the  behaviour 
of  all  towards  him,  that  not  the  least  affront  or  indignity  was  offered  to 
him  by  any  one  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  many  persons  saluted  him  with 
their  prayers  for  his  salvation. 

His  lordship  asked  the  sheriff,  if  he  had  ever  seen  so  great  a  concourse 
of  people  before  ?  and  upon  his  answering  that  he  had  not;  I  suppose, 
said  his  lordship,  it  is,  because  they  never  saw  a  lord  hanged  before.  He 
said,  that  he  had  wrote  to  the  king,  to  beg  that  he  might  suffer  where 
his  ancestor  the  Earl  of  Essex  had  suffered  j  and  that  he  was  in  the 
greater  hopes  of  obtaining  the  favour,  as  he  had  the  honour  of  quartering 
part  of  the  same  arms,  and  of  being  allied  to  his  majesty,  and  that  he 
thought  it  was  hard  that  he  must  die  at  the  place  appointed  for  the  exe- 
cution of  common  felons.  But  whatever  his  lordship's  thoughts  were 
upon  that  account,  those  considerations  will  for  ever  throw  an  additional 
lustre  on  his  majesty's  impartiality  and  justice. 

Mr.  Humphries  the  chaplain,  who,  it  seems,  had  not  attended  his  lord- 
ship till  this  morning,  took  occasion  to  observe,  that  the  world  would 
naturally  be  very  inquisitive  concerning  the  religion  his  lordship  pro- 
fessed -,  and  asked  him,  If  he  chose  to  say  any  thing  upon  that  subject  ? 
To  which  his  lordship  answered,  That,  he  did  not  think  himself  at  all  ac- 


countable  to  the  world  for  his  sentiments  on  religion ;  but  that  he  had 
always  believed  in,  and  adored  one  God,  the  maker  of  all  things ;  that 
whatever  his  notions  were,  he  had  never  propagated  them,  or  endeavoured 
to  gain  any  person  over  to  his  persuasion  j  that  all  countries  and  nations 
had  a  form  of  religion  by  which  the  people  were  governed,  and  that 
whoever  disturbed  them  in  it,  he  looked  upon  him  as  an  enemy  to  society ; 
but  that,  if  he  himself  was  wrong  in  his  way  of  thinking,  he  was  very 
sorry  for  it.  That  he  very  much  blamed  my  Lord  Bolingbroke,  for  per- 
mitting his  sentiments  on  religion  to  be  published  to  the  world.  That 
the  many  sects  and  disputes  which  happen  about  religion,  have  almost 
turned  morality  out  of  doors.  That  he  could  never  believe  what  some 
sectaries  teach,  that  faith  alone  will  save  mankind  ;  so  that  if  a  man, 
just  before  he  dies,  should  say  only,  I  believe,  that  that  alone  will  save 
him  ;  "  Shew  me  thy  faith." — Here  his  lordship  stopped  ;  but  by  which 
quotation  he  plainly  meant,  according  to  the  holy  writer,  (St.  James, 
chap.  ii.  v.  18.)  whose  words  they  are,  that  faith  without  works  is  a  dead 

Concerning  the  unfortunate  and  much-to-be-lamented  Mr.  Johnson, 
whose  death  occasioned  the  trouble  this  day,  his  lordship  declared,  That 
he  was  under  particular  circumstances  j  that  he  had  met  with  so  many 
crosses  and  vexations  he  scarce  knew  what  he  did  ;  and  most  solemnly 
protested,  that  he  had  not  the  least  malice  towards  him. 

The  slowness  of  the  procession  made  this  journey  appear  so  very  tedi- 
ous to  his  lordship,  that  he  often  expressed  his  desire  of  being  got  to  the 
end  of  it,  saying,  that  the  apparatus  of  death,  and  the  passing  through 
such  crowds  of  people,  were  ten  times  worse  than  death  itself ;  but  upon 
the  sheriff's  taking  notice  to  his  lordship,  that  he  was  glad  to  see  that  he 
supported  himself  so  well,  his  lordship  replied,  I  thank  you,  Sir,  I  hope  I 
shall  continue  so  to  the  last. 

When  his  lordship  had  got  to  that  part  of  Holborn  which  is  near  Drury- 
lane,  he  said,  he  was  thirsty,  and  should  be  glad  of  a  glass  of  wine  and 
water  j  but  upon  the  sheriff's  remonstrating  to  him,  that  a  stop  for  that 
purpose  would  necessarily  draw  a  greater  crowd  about  him,  which  might 
possibly  disturb  and  incommode  him,  yet  if  his  lordship  still  desired  it,  it 
should  be  done  ;  he  most  readily  answered, — That's  true,  I  say  no  more, 
let  us  by  no  means  stop. 

When  they  approached  near  the  place  of  execution,  his  lordship  told 
the  sheriff,  That  there  was  a  person  waiting  in  a  coach  near  there,  for 
whom  he  had  a  very  sincere  regard,  and  of  whom  he  should  be  glad  to 
take  his  leave  before  he  died  j  to  which  the  sheriff  answered,  That  if  his 
lordship  insisted  upon  it,  it  should  be  so  ;  but  that  he  wished  his  lord- 
ship, for  his  own  sake,  would  decline  it,  lest  the  sight  of  a  person,  for 
whom  he  had  such  a  regard,  should  unman  him,  and  disarm  him  of  the  forti- 
tude he  possessed. — To  which  his  lordship,  without  the  least  hesitation, 
replied,  Sir,  if  you  think  I  am  wrong,  I  submit ;  and  upon  the  sheriff's 
telling  his  lordship,  that  if  he  had  any  thing  to  deliver  to  that  person,  or 
any  one  else,  he  would  faithfully  do  it ;  his  lordship  thereupon  delivered 
to  the  sheriff  a  pocket-book,  in  which  was  a  bank-note,  and  a  ring,  and  a 
purse  with  some  guineas,  in  order  to  be  delivered  to  that  person,  which 
was  done  accordingly. 

The  landau  being  now  advanced  to  the  place  of  execution,  his  lordship 
alighted  from  it,  and  ascended  upon  the  scaffold,  which  was  covered  with 


black  baize,  with  the  same  composure  and  fortitude  of  mind  he  had  en- 
joyed from  the  time  he  left  the  Tower  j  where,  after  a  short  stay,  Mr. 
Humphries  asked  his  lordship,  if  he  chose  to  say  prayers  ?  which  he  de- 
clined j  but  upon  his  asking  him.  If  he  did  not  choose  to  join  with  him 
in  the  Lord's  Prayer  ?  he  readily  answered,  He  would,  for  he  always 
thought  it  a  very  fine  prayer ;  upon  which  they  knelt  down  together 
upon  two  cushions,  covered  with  black  baize,  and  his  lordship  with  an 
audible  voice  very  devoutly  repeated  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  afterwards, 
with  great  energy,  the  following  ejaculation,  O  God,  forgive  me  all  my 
errors, — pardon  all  my  sins. 

His  lordship  then  rising,  took  his  leave  of  the  sheriffs  and  the  chaplain  j 
and  after  thanking  them  for  their  many  civilities,  he  presented  his  watch 
to  Mr.  Sheriff  Vaillant,  which  he  desired  his  acceptance  of ,  and  signified 
his  desire,  that  his  body  might  be  buried  at  Breden  or  Stanton,  in 

His  lordship  then  called  for  the  executioner,  who  immediately  came  to 
him,  and  asked  him  forgiveness  ;  upon  which  his  lordship  said,  I  freely 
forgive  you,  as  I  do  all  mankind,  and  hope  myself  to  be  forgiven.— He 
then  intended  to  give  the  executioner  five  guineas,  but,  by  mistake, 
giving  it  into  the  hands  of  the  executioner's  assistant,  an  unseasonable 
dispute  ensued  between  those  unthinking  wretches,  which  Mr.  Sheriff 
Vaillant  instantly  silenced. 

The  executioner  then  proceeded  to  do  his  duty,  to  which  his  lordship, 
with  great  resignation,  submitted. — His  neckcloth  being  taken  off,  a 
white  cap,  which  his  lordship  had  brought  in  his  pocket,  being  put  upon 
his  head,  his  arms  secured  by  a  black  sash  from  incommoding  himself, 
and  the  cord  put  round  his  neck,  he  advanced  by  three  steps  upon  an 
elevation  in  the  middle  of  the  scaffold,  where  part  of  the  floor  had  been 
raised  about  eighteen  inches  higher  than  the  rest ;  and  standing  under 
the  cross-beam  which  went  over  it,  covered  with  black  baize,  he  asked 
the  executioner,  Am  I  right  ? — Then  the  cap  was  drawn  over  his  face  : 
and  then,  upon  a  signal  given  by  the  sheriff  (for  his  lordship,  upon  being 
before  asked,  declined  to  give  one  himself)  that  part  upon  which  he 
stood,  instantly  sunk  down  from  beneath  his  feet,  and  left  him  entirely 
suspended  ;  but  not  having  sunk  down  so  low  as  was  designed,  it  was 
immediately  pressed  down,  and  levelled  with  the  rest  of  the  floor. 

Fora  few  seconds  his  lordship  made  some  struggles  against  the  attacks 
of  death,  but  was  soon  eased  of  all  pain  by  the  pressure  of  the  execu- 

The  time  from  his  lordship's  ascending  upon  the  scaffold,  until  his 
execution,  was  about  eight  minutes  ;  during  which  his  countenance  did 
not  change,  nor  his  tongue  falter  : — The  prospect  of  death  did  not  at  all 
shake  the  composure  of  his  mind. 

Whatever  were  his  lordship's  failings,  his  behaviour  in  these  his  last 
moments,  which  created  a  most  awful  and  respectful  silence  amidst  the 
numberless  spectators,  cannot  but  make  a  sensible  impression  upon  every 
human  breast. 

The  accustomed  time  of  one  hour  being  past,  the  coffin  was  raised  up, 
with  the  greater  decency  to  receive  the  body,  and  being  deposited  in  the 
hearse,  was  conveyed  by  the  sheriffs,  with  the  same  procession,  to  Sur- 
geons-Hall, to  undergo  the  remainder  of  the  sentence  (viz.  dissection). — 
Which  being  done,  the  body  was  on  Thursday  evening,  the  8th  of  May, 
delivered  to  his  friends  for  interment. 


He  was  privately  interred  at  St.  Pancras  near  London,  in  a  grave  dug 
twelve  or  fourteen  feet  deep,  under  the  belfry. 

Pursuant  to  a  distinction  in  law,  peculiarly  fine,  the  Earldom  of  Ferrers, 
was  not  forfeited  by  the  attainder  for  felony,  but  passed  to  the  convicted 
lord's  next  brother,  Vice  Admiral,  the  Hon.  Washington  Shirley,  who 
consequently  became  the  fifth  Earl :  his  nephew  Washington,  the  eighth 
Earl,  was  the  grandfather,  and  immediate  predecessor  of  the  nobleman 
who  now  enjoys  the  title.  The  reason  for  the  non-forfeiture  of  the  Earl- 
dom of  Ferrers  lay  in  the  difference  between  a  dignity  descendible  to 
heirs  general,  and  one  that  is  (as  it  was)  entailed  j  the  former,  it  seems, 
being  absolutely  forfeited  by  the  attainder  of  felony  of  the  person  pos- 
sessed of  such  dignity,  while  the  entailed  honour  is  only  forfeited  during 
the  lifetime  of  the  offender. 

During  the  interval  between  sentence,  and  execution,  Earl  Ferrers 
made  a  will,  by  which  he  left  £1300  to  the  children  of  Johnson  whom 
he  had  murdered,  £1000  to  each  of  his  own  four  natural  daughters,  and 
£60  a-year  to  Mrs.  Clifford,  their  mother,  who  it  will  be  remembered  is 
mentioned  in  the  course  of  the  trial  as  residing  with  the  Earl  at  the  time 
of  his  offence.  This  will,  however,  being  made  after  his  conviction,  was 
not  valid,  yet  the  same  provision  was  allowed  to  the  parties  by  the  un- 
fortunate nobleman's  successor. 

The  following  verse  is  said  to  have  been  found  in  Earl  Ferrers'  apart- 
ment in  the  Tower,  after  he  had  quitted  it  for  his  last  fatal  journey. 

In  doubt  I  liv'd,  in  doubt  I  die, 

Yet  stand  prepar'd,  the  vast  abyss  to  try, 

And  undismayed  expect  eternity. 





IN  an  old  mansion  on  that  part  of  the  beautiful  peninsula  of  Mucruss,  where 
the  land  rises  gently  from  the  lakes  to  the  horizon  of  distant  mountains, 
an  old  gentleman  resided  with  his  orphan  niece  ;  he  had  passed  the  greater 
part  of  his  life  in  the  army,  and  had  seen  much  foreign  service.  Many  years 
separation  from  his  country  had  not  weakened  his  attachments  to  the  land 
of  his  birth  ;  he  found  that  land  poor,  and  beautiful  as  when  he  left  it,  and 
its  lakes  as  fresh,  and  fields  as  green ;  but  the  loved  companions  of  those 
early  haunts,  he  found  them  not.  The  spoiler  death  had  claimed  them  in 
his  absence,  and  left  him  on  his  return  a  mourning  stranger  in  his  own 
country.  Sorrow  and  gloom  hung  over  his  spirits,  until  his  attention  was 
directed  by  the  clergyman  of  the  parish  to  his  orphan  niece,  the  only  child 
of  his  favourite  sister.  This  young  lady  had  been  placed,  on  the  death  of 
her  parents,  in  a  neighbouring  convent,  where  she  remained  until  her  uncle 
took  her  to  his  lonely  home  and  heart,  where  her  presence  soon  shed  such 
lights  on  both,  as  made  the  old  man  young  again. 

To  the  admirers  of  the  grand  and  picturesque  in  Nature,  the 
Lakes  of  Killarney  present  a  combination  of  all  that  is  sublime  and  beauti- 
ful. Magnificent  mountains  encircle  them,  some  of  which  are  bare  and 
rocky,  while  others  are  clothed  in  wood;  numerous  islands  float  on  the 
waters — islands  lovely  in  eternal  verdure,  where  the  sweet-scented  arbutus, 
and  shining  holly  cluster  round  hallowed  ruins  of  antiquity,  shading  their 
fallen  greatness,  and  embalming  their  relics  in  fragrant  perfume.  The 
tourist,  the  poet,  and  the  painter,  become  enthusiasts  amidst  those  magic 
scenes.  It  is  not  therefore  strange  that  those  who  have  been  familiar  with 
them  from  childhood,  should  love  them  with  a  proud  attachment.  Such 
was  the  case  with  Captain  Fitzallan  and  his  fair  niece  Rose  O'Brien. 
Rose  was  one  of  those  bright  beings  who  seem  formed  for  so  pure  and  lofty 
a  region,  where  Nature  presides  in  all  her  loveliness  amidst  her  own  bold 
and  beauteous  work. 

The  Captain  enjoyed  many  amusements  in  his  rural  retirement,  as  the 
lakes  possess  a  variety  of  excellent  fish,  and  the  mountains  and  woods 
abound  with  game.  He  was  a  good  sportsman,  and  with  his  rod  or  gun, 
he  never  knew  a  weary  moment ;  Rose  bestowed  social  refinements  on  his 
domestic  hours.  She  was  as  happy  as  beautiful,  and  lived  unfettered  by 
care  or  sorrow.  Her  young  heart  was  as  free  as  the  mountain  breeze, 
which  floated  round  her  from  infancy.  She  shared  her  uncle's  enthusiasm 
for  the  grand  and  sublime  scenery  which  surrounded  them,  and  was  his  con- 
stant companion  on  the  lakes  and  mountains.  Every  returning  month  of 
June,  her  birthday  was  celebrated  by  a  rural  fete  on  the  beautiful  mountain 
of  Glena&,  a  favourite  spot  with  both,  for  it  was  covered  with  the  richest 
moss,  shadowed  by  woods  of  oak,  and  ash,  and  planted  by  Nature's  own 
cunning  hand,  with  the  loveliest  shrubs,  forming  in  truth  a  Paradise  of 
tranquil  beauty  and  repose.  The  old  man  loved  to  call  his  child  the  Rose 
of  Glenaa,  and  she  was  so  designated  by  his  friends  and  household. 
Amongst  the  many  travellers  who  visited  the  lakes  in  the  autumn  of  1 8 — , 


were  Edmund  Beaumont  and  his  tutor ;  the  former  was  the  youngest  son  of 
an  aristocratic  and  wealthy  English  family,  and  the  best  beloved  child  of  a 
doting  mother.  His  tutor,  though  many  years  his  senior,  (for  Edmund  had 
only  completed  his  twentieth  year,)  appeared  more  in  the  character  of  a 
companion,  than  of  one  in  authority  ;  he  certainly  interfered  but  little  with 
the  amusements  or  wishes  of  his  young  charge,  who  not  a  little  romantic 
and  enthusiastic,  often  left  his  friend  absorbed  in  his  books,  and  stole  away 
to  enjoy  the  lovely  scenery  with  which  he  was  so  enchanted,  that  he  left  no 
spot,  however  difficult  of  access,  unexplored. 

On  one  of  those  sweet  mellow  days  in  September,  when  the  varied  tints  of 
autumn  lend  additional  beauty  to  the  wooded  mountains,  Edmund  was 
early  on  the  lakes  fishing.  After  much  successful  sport,  he  steered  for 
O' Sullivan's  cascade,  in  order  to  see  it  to  greater  advantage  after  the  heavy 
rains  of  the  two  preceding  days.  The  fall  was  magnificent;  but  not  satisfied 
with  viewing  it  in  the  ordinary  way,  he  determined  to  ascend  the  rocks  and 
look  down  on  it  from  above.  This  fall  is  situated  in  a  romantic  glen  between 
the  mountains  of  Glenaa  and  Toomish.  Edmund  had  just  reached  the  top, 
when  two  more  visitors  approached,  one  of  them  an  old  gentleman,  with 
a  lovely  girl  leaning  on  his.  arm.  They  both  stood  enraptured,  gazing  on 
the  cataract,  as  it  fell  with  deafening  sound  down  the  precipice,  dashing  its 
white  foam  from  rock  to  rock,  until  it  reached  the  basin  below,  where  it 
seemed  boiling  in  angry  contact  with  the  large  granite  stones  which  vainly 
opposed  its  passage;  The  view  was  one  of  a  grand  and  sublime  character. 
As  additional  figures  to  this  landscape,  two  or  three  wild  looking  peasant 
girls,  barefooted,  dark-haired,  of  sunburnt  hue,  were  gathering  nuts  from 
the  surrounding  wood.  Our  fab:  heroine  Rose, — "the  Rose  of  Glenaa"  (for  the 
new  visitors  were  her  uncle,  and  herself) — formed  not  the  least  beauti- 
ful object  in  the  wild  scenery.  As  she  stood  enraptured,  an  object  caught 
her  attention  on  one  of  the  rocks  above  the  cataract ;  it  soon  became  evident 
to  her,  that  a  man  was  in  the  act  of  descending,  holding  by  branches  of 
trees  and  low  growing  shrubs ;  it  was  a  perilous  undertaking,  and  she 
scarcely  breathed,  watching  bis  movements ;  he  came,  after  overcoming  many 
difficulties,  within  ten  feet  of  the  ground ;  the  descent  here  was  still  more 
precarious,  owing  to  the  rocks  and  stones,  rendered  slippery  from  the  spray 
of  the  waters  ;  on  one  of  those  his  feet  gave  way,  and,  the  branches  by  which 
he  held  yielding  to  his  weight,  he  fell  with  a  heavy  splash  into  the  roaring 
torrents.  The  young  man  with  the  instinct  of  self-preservation,  grasped  a 
shelving  rock  to  which  he  clung,  but  the  force  of  the  water  was  so  great, 
that  it  was  evident  he  could  not  long  remain  thus  suspended.  Rose,  who  had 
been  observing  him  with  deep  interest  sprang  forward  in  a  moment,  and 
taking  an  arm  of  one  of  the  nut-girls,  made  her  hold  by  some  shrubs,  while 
she  took  her  other  hand,  then  lightly  stepping  on  one  of  the  large  stones 
which  projected  into  the  water,  she  threw  her  scarf  towards  the  young  man, 
who  quickly  caught  it,  and  in  this  way  supported  him  until  the  boatmen  who 
were  loitering  among  the  trees  came  to  his  assistance.  It  was  soon  found 
that  he  had  received  but  little  injury,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  bruises, 
and  a  wet  jacket.  This  ascertained,  Rose  drew  back,  and  prepared  to  ac- 
company her  uncle  to  their  boats.  She  deemed  the  service  she  had  rendered 
the  stranger  a  very  simple  one,  but  he  viewed  it  far  differently,  and  in  the 
romantic  enthusiasm  of  his  disposition,  he  thanked  her  in  the  most  fervent 
manner.  Perhaps  her  beauty  might  have  somewhat  enhanced  his  gratitude. 
He  begged  to  know  the  name  of  his  fair  guardian,  and  presented  his  card  to 
her  uncle,  requesting  permission  to  call  on  both  the  following  day. 


Edmund  came,  and  a  short  time  saw  him  a  welcome  guest  at  the  old- 
fashioned  residence  of  Captain  Fitzallan,  whose  boat  was  always  in  attend- 
ance, as  he  took  a  proud  pleasure  in  shewing  the  varied  beauties  of  the  lakes 
(with  which  he  was  so  familiar)  to  the  young  Englishman.  Days  flew  by 
unheeded  ;  at  least  the  young  people  marked  not  their  flight,  and  the  old 
man  loved  to  see  them  happy. 

Edmund  believed  the  fairy  tales  of  his  childhood  realized  amidst  those 
scenes  of  enchantment,  and  forgot  his  fond  mother  and  distant  home  in  the 
society  of  the  lovely  Irish  girl,  who  in  the  artless  confidence  of  youth  trusted 
her  happiness  to  his  keeping,  and  never  for  a  moment  doubted  his  truth. 
They  had  exchanged  mutual  vows  of  love  and  constancy.  No  thought  of 
future  ill  shaded  the  sweet  sunshine  of  their  happiness,  which  was  un  ruined 
as  the  bosom  of  the  lake  beneath  the  summer  sky.  Tis  ever  thus  in  the 
bright  and  beautiful  morning  of  existence,  when  every  leaf  of  life  is  green, 
when  generous  feelings  swell  the  young  heart,  still  true  to  nature— aye, 
ever  thus,  before  the  world  with  artificial  colouring  spoils  life's  fresh- 
ness. Alas  !  that  sorrow  should  cloud  the  brightness  of  that  morning,  chill 
those  generous  feelings,  leaving  the  heart  a  cheerless  desert.  Edmund 
and  Rose  saw  not  the  coming  storm  that  threatened  to  separate  them  for 

But  we  must  now  transfer  the  reader  to  a  more  distant  and  more  worldly 

There  is  an  air  of  home-felt  comfort  and  tranquil  beauty,  about  most  of 
the  English  villages  :  their  neat  and  comfortable  cottages  where  peace  and 
plenty  seem  to  dwell ;  the  pretty  churches  o'ertopping  the  hills  ;  the  well 
clad,  well  fed  peasantry — all  convey  an  idea  of  the  benign  influence,  and 
fostering  care  of  good  landlords  who  feel  a  noble  pride  in  the  prosperity  of 
their  tenants,  and  wisely  deem  the  protection  they  extend  to  them  the  true 
bond  of  national  union.  It  is  this  that  reflects  such  high  honour  on  the 
landed  gentry  of  England,  and  justly  entitles  them  to  the  high  station  they 
hold  in  then-  native  land.  Near  to  one  of  those  villages  in  a  rich  domain 
rose  in  proud  beauty  the  mansion  of  the  Beaumonts.  The  family  consisted  of 
Mr.  Beaumont,  his  wife,  and  two  sons,  the  younger  of  whom  was  his 
mother's  favourite,  and  our  hero  of  the  lakes. 

Mrs.  Beaumont  was  a  proud  haughty  woman  of  strong  feeling  and  preju- 
dices, and  had  no  idea  of  any  one  daring  to  oppose  her  will ;  she  deemed  very 
few  worthy  of  aspiring  to  an  alliance  with  her  family,  and  had  often  declared 
that  her  daughters-in-law  should  boast  birth,  wealth,  and  English  lineage. 
Edmund  from  his  infancy  had  been  the  dearest  object  of  her  affections ; 
his  personal  beauty  and  strong  likeness  to  herself — his  sweet  disposition  and 
manly  bearing,  enhanced  still  more  her  fondness;  as  he  grew  up  he 
importuned  his  mother  to  allow  him  to  enter  the  army,  but  from  year  to  year 
she  tried  to  divert  his  thoughts  from  a  military  life,  and  at  the  period  of 'this 
tale  she  agreed  to  his  making  a  little  tour,  hoping  to  drive  the  idea  from  his 
mind  by  variety  and  change  of  scene.  His  tutor  having  consented  to  accom- 
pany him,  Edmund  selected  Ireland  as  the  country  he  wished  most  to  visit,  and 
though  his  mother  had  strong  prejudices  against  the  Irish,  she  did  not  like 
to  oppose  him  in  every  thing.  This  tutor  who  had  some  abstruse  work  in 
hand  which  he  intended  publishing,  did  not  much  relish  the  Irish  excursion, 
but  feared  refusing  the  request  made  to  him  of  accompanying  Edmund,  by 
a  family  who  had  so  much  patronage  to  bestow,  and  to  whom  he  already 
owed  so  much ;  he  determined  however,  as  the  event  proved,  to  be  as  little 
restraint  on  Edmund  as  possible.  Mr.  Laurier,  the  tutor,  when  some  short 


time  at  Killarney,  found  it  necessary  to  go  to  Dublin,  for  a  few  days,  in 
order  to  refer  to  some  books  relative  to  the  work  he  was  about  publishing-. 
On  his  return  he  found  Edmund  had  made  a  useful  acquaintance  in  the 
person  of  Captain  Fitzallan.  So  matters  rested,  and  weeks  flew  on  in  this  way, 
when  at  length  Mr,  Laurier  thought  it  time  to  return  to  England,  and  was 
quite  astonished  at  the  reluctance  Edmund  expressed,  when  the  subject  was 
mentioned.  Strange  suspicions  began  to  disturb  the  tutor's  mind,  and  he  de- 
termined to  observe  his  young  friend  closely  ;  he  laid  a&ide  his  books,  and  took 
a  boat  the  following  morning  to  Captain  Fitzallan's  residence,  where  he  was 
hospitably  received,  and  invited  to  remain  the  day.  It  was  his  first  introduc- 
tion to  Rose,  and  he  saw  at  once  clearly  the  cause  of  Edmund's  refusal  to  re- 
turn home.  A  pang  shot  through  his  heart  at  the  recollection  of  his  own  neg- 
lect of  the  charge  committed  to  his  care.  The  only  reparation  he  could  make, 
was  to  write  to  Mrs.  Beaumont  immediately,  stating  his  apprehensions,  and 
requesting  her  to  use  her  authority  by  recalling  her  son.  Anger  and  jealousy, 
(yes,  jealousy  that  any  one  should  rival  her  in  her  son's  affections)  filled  the 
mother's  soul,  and  she  was  seized  with  a  fit  on  reading  the  letter  ;  her  life  was 
in  imminent  danger,  and  her  medical  attendants  declared  the  least  opposition 
to  her  will  would  prove  fatal.  Edmund  soon  after  received  a  letter  from  his 
father,  summoning  him  immediately  home,  as  his  mother  was  very  ill  and  most 
anxious  to  see  him.  The  communication,  however,  suppressed  the  receipt  of 
Mr.  Laurier's  letter.  Edmund  who  loved  his  mother  fondly,  determined  to 
obey.  But  how  was  he  to  part  Rose,  the  confiding,  artless,  lovely  girl,  and 
her  warm-hearted  uncle,  who  treated  him  with  such  ingenuous  hospitality  ? 
He  could  have  passed  his  life  with  them  on  the  shore  of  that  beautiful  lake. 
When  should  he  meet  Rose  again?  His  mother's  prejudices,  his  father's  pride, 
would  separate  them  for  ever.  Could  he  prevail  on  her  to  become  his  wife, 
he  might  by  that  endearing  title,  claim  her  hereafter ;  his  parents  would  in 
time  relent ;  seventeen  is  not  the  age  of  prudence,  particularly  if  the  blessing 
of  maternal  guardianship  be  wanting ;  and  Rose  had  never  heard  a  mother's 
warning  voice,  or  known  her  gentle  care. 

Edmund  had  consented  to  accompany  his  tutor  the  following  night  in  the 
mail  which  left  for  Dublin,  so  that  a  few  hours  more  and  he  should  part  Rose 
perhaps  for  ever.  Yet  he,  with  all  the  eloquence  of  love,  urged  her  to 
become  his  wife  before  the  bitter  hour  of  separation  ;  he  would  arrange  with 
the  clergyman  to  meet  them  at  the  little  rustic  chapel  in  the  mountains,  by 
sun-rise  the  following  morning.  It  was  not  very  difficult  to  prevail  on  one 
so  young,  so  confiding,  and  inexperienced,  to  take  this  imprudent  step  ; 
Edmund  had  a  powerful,  though  silent  advocate  in  the  pleadings  of  his 
gentle  mistress's  heart ;  and  she  at  length  consented;  but  no  sooner  had 
she  done  so,  than  she  became  affrighted  at  the  idea  of  stealing  from  her 
uncle's  house  at  that  early  hour  ;  and  disposing  of  her  heart  and  hand  without 
either  his  knowledge  or  consent ; — there  was  ingratitude  in  the  very  thought, 
and  she  shrank  tremblingly  from  it.  But  Edmund  declared  "it  would 
ruin  all  their  plans  if  her  uncle  even  suspected  them."  She  knew  not  how 
to  oppose  his  arguments,  but  yeilding,  she  was  not  happy.  And  who  is  ever 
so  when  deaf  to  the  silent  monitor,  the  small  still  voice,  within  the  bosom, 
whose  dictates  of  unerring  truth  lead  to  present  peace,  and  eternal  happiness  ? 

The  young  bride  elect  rose  next  morning  at  break  of  day  ;  Nora  her  faith- 
ful attendant  assisted  at  her  simple  toilette,  and  wrapping  a  cloak  round  her, 
they  both  passed  out  of  the  house  by  a  back  door.  The  little  chapel  was 
about  half  a  mile  distant  in  the  mountains ;  horses  were  prepared  for  them 
to  ride,  and  Paddy,  the  Captain's  servant  walked  beside  them.  It  was  a 


grey  autumnal  morning  in  the  beginning  of  October.  The  air  was  chill,  and 
a  fresh  breeze  stirred  the  waters  of  the  lake.  Heavy  vapours  from  the 
Atlantic  rested  on  the  summit  of  the  distant  mountains.  Rose  felt  the  influence 
of  the  atmosphere,  and  her  heart  beat  with  timid  apprehension.  When 
they  reached  the  little  chapel,  Edmund  (who  was  already  there)  assisted 
her  to  dismount,  and,  pressing  her  hand,  whispered  words  of  encouragement. 
In  a  few  moments  the  party  stood  within  the  rural  temple,  and  in  the 
presence  of  the  clergyman  and  their  humble  followers,  Edmund  and  Rose 
pledged  their  faith  to  each  other  for  life.  It  appeared  to  Nora  a  very  lone- 
some dismal  wedding,  and  she  whispered  to  Paddy  that  she  observed  a 
solitary  magpie  perch  on  some  heath  near  the  chapel  door — "  a  very  unlucky 
sign,"  but  she  would  not  mention  it  to  the  mistress.  Edmund  had  promised 
to  breakfast  with  Captain  Fitzallan  on  that  morning,  the  last  of  his  visit  to 
Killamey;  he  therefore  accompanied  his  fair  bride  on  her  return  home. 
The  uncle  was  accustomed  to  his  niece's  habit  of  taking  early  rides,  and 
consequently  she  knew  he  would  not  be  alarmed  at  her  absence.  The  bridal 
party  quitted  the  rustic  chapel :  as  they  did  so,  the  sun  shone  brightly  on 
the  wild  road  before  them  ;  the  heavy  vapours  which  shrouded  the  mountains 
were  floating  fast  away  ;  Rose's  spirits  revived  beneath  the  smile  of  Heaven. 
She  thought  the  change  auspicious,  remembering  the  old  adage  "  happy  the 
bride  the  sun  shines  on." 

Rose  was  received  by  her  unsuspecting  uncle  with  his  usual  affection. 
He  noticed  her  silence,  as  she  took  her  place  at  the  breakfast  table,  but  he 
attributed  it  to  the  charitable  visit  he  supposed  she  had  been  making  to  some 
poor  family  that  morning.  Edmund  tried  to  be  gay,  but  it  was  an  effort. 
The  old  man  looked  alternately  at  each  from  time  to  time,  until  a  thought  sug- 
gested itself  that  something  unusual  affected  both,  particularly  Rose,  who  eat 
not  a  morsel.  At  length  he  exclaimed,  "  My  children  what  is  the  matter  ?" 
Rose,  looking  towards  her  uncle,  found  his  eyes  fixed  on  her  ;  their  tender 
expression  touched  the  chord  of  affection  in  her  bosom  ;  throwing  herself 
into  his  arms  she  wept  like  a  child  :  concealment  was  no  longer  possible  ; 
and  all  was  soon  told  !  The  old  man  was  fully  convinced  of  the  great  im- 
prudence they  were  guilty  of,  but  it  was  foreign  to  his  kind  nature  to 
reproach  those  he  loved,  and  how  could  he  blame  Edmund  for  preferring  his 
little  Rose  to  all  the  girls  he  had  ever  known  ?  no  one  was  wrong  but 
himself,  and  he  declared  he  was  an  old  fool  not  to  have  foreseen  it.  Not 
long  after  this  denouement,  Mr.  Laurier  arrived  ;  his  anger  and  disappoint- 
ment may  be  imagined  when  he  heard  the  events  of  the  morning.  How 
should  he  break  the  news  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Beaumont  ?  In  liis  vexation  he 
would  scarcely  speak  to  Edmund,  whom  he  insisted  should  accompany  him 
at  once  to  Dublin,  showing  him  a  letter  he  had  received  that  day  from 
England,  with  very  alarming  accounts  of  his  mother's  health.  Edmund  took 
a  sad  and  tender  farewell  of  his  youthful  bride,  vowing  eternal  fidelity,  and 
promising  to  return  the  moment  his  mother  was  convalescent. 

A  few  days  brought  him  to  his  parent's  side  ;  and  she  welcomed  him  with 
the  fondest  affection.  Her  physicians  had  ordered  change  of  climate  and  of 
scene  for  the  restoration  of  her  health,  and  she  declared  her  intention  of 
taking  her  son  with  her.  This  was  a  deathblow  to  Edmund's  hopes  ;  he 
avowed  his  marriage,  and  his  determination  to  return  to  Ireland  and  claim  his 
wife.  His  mother's  passions  were  roused  at  this  intelligence,  and  she  applied 
to  her  husband  to  use  his  authority  in  breaking  the  marriage.  Her  son  was 
not  of  age ;  and,  according  to  the  laws  of  England,  it  was  illegal,  the  cere- 
mony having  only  been  performed  by  a  Catholic  clergyman.  Every  art 


and  persuasion  were  used  to  make  Edmund  a  party  to  their  wishes,  but  in 
vain.  Nothing  therefore  remained  but  to  take  him  abroad,  and  prevent  all 
correspondence  between  him  and  "the  artful  Irish  girl,"  as  they  called  her. 
Accordingly  his  mother  and  family  removed  to  Italy.  At  first,  Edmund  was 
in  a  state  of  irritability  and  sorrow ;  his  letters  to  Ireland  were  intercepted, 
and  those  poor  Rose  wrote  never  reached  him.  His  mother  used  all  her 
influence  (and  she  had  much)  to  divert  his  thoughts  and  affections.  She 
required  his  constant  attendance,  and  introduced  him  into  the  best  and  most 
attractive  society  ;  he  was  very  young,  and  by  degrees  he  became  less  un- 
happy, and  entered  into  all  the  amusements  which  surrounded  him.  Rose's 
silence  at  first  pained  him  to  the  heart,  but  insensibly  weaned  his  thoughts 
from  her.  His  military  penchant  again  revived,  and  he  entreated  his  father 
and  mother  to  get  him  a  commission.  Accordingly  his  father  (his  mother 

no  longer  dissenting)  wrote  to  Colonel  L r  a  friend  of  his  in  London,  to 

procure  one  for  Edmund  as  soon  as  possible.  At  this  time  they  had  been 
two  years  in  Italy,  and  his  mother's  health  quite  re-established ;  they  pre- 
pared to  return  home. 

But  how  did  the  young  forsaken  wife  support  the  neglect  of  the  faithless 
wanderer  ?  Had  she  forgotten  him  ?  Had  she  ceased  to  love  him  ?  No  ! 
such  is  not  woman's  nature.  Woman  worships  to  the  last  the  idol  of  her 
heart,  though  the  beauty  of  the  shrine  be  fled,  leaving  it  a  broken  and  deserted 
ruin.  Day  after  day,  she  awaited  his  promised  letters,  till  at  length  wearied 
with  disappointment  her  spirits  sank  ;  doubts  of  Edmund's  truth  were  the  last 
to  present  themselves  to  her  mind,  but  too  soon  they  did  come  in  all  their 
bitterness.  Indignation  at  first  swelled  her  gentle  bosom,  but  tenderness 
and  love  soon  resumed  their  place,  and  left  her  mourning  over  the  past  in 
fruitless  sorrow.  It  almost  broke  her  fond  uncle's  heart  to  see  his  sweet 
Rose  evidently  drooping,  her  cheek  so  pale, — her  eyes  dim  with  tears, — the 
music  of  her  voice  hushed  to  silence, — her  health  rapidly  declining.  She 
was  a  blighted  flower  fading  away  even  in  the  morning  of  spring.  The 
physician  (an  old  friend  of  her  uncle's)  whom  he  called  on  to  attend  her, 
could  not  minister  to  a  mind  diseased.  He  recommended  change  of  air 
and  scene  as  absolutely  necessary  to  arrest,  if  possible,  the  malady  which 
threatened  her.  Her  uncle  had  some  military  friends  in  Plymouth,  and 
thither  he  purposed  going,  for  a  while,  and  trying  the  effects  of  the  southern 
climate  of  England  on  his  beloved  child.  Those  only,  who  have  felt  the 
lingering  death  of  hope,  and  the  soul  sickening  pangs  of  suspense,  can  know 
how  surely  they  undermine  health  and  strength. 

The  wound  poor  Rose  had  received  from  him  she  loved,  sank  festering 
deeply  into  her  bosom.  The  solitude  of  her  mountain  home,  and  the  seclu- 
sion in  which  she  lived,  were  calculated  to  preserve  in  their  first  freshness  the 
tender  and  confiding  feelings  of  her  bosom,  which  intercourse  with  the  heart- 
less world  but  too  often  wither  and  destroy.  Her  restoration  therefore  to 
health  and  happiness,  were  beyond  the  reach  of  art,  which  may  occasionally 
alleviate  suffering,  but  can  never  triumph  over  nature. 

The  Beaumont  family  had  been  some  months  re-established  in  their 
English  home,  where  they  were  welcomed  by  their  happy  prosperous  ten- 
antry. Edmund  had  been  gazetted  immediately  on  his  return,  and  his 
military  ardour  was  likely  to  be  put  to  the  test.  His  regiment  in  a  very 
short  time  was  ordered  out  to  India.  His  mother  was  in  despair,  and  urged 
him  to  sell  out,  but  he  would  not  listen  to  such  a  proposal.  Fear  of  the 
Irish  connection  was  ever  before  his  father's  mind ;  and,  of  the  two,  he  pre- 
ferred that  which  in  his  prejudiced  opinion  was  the  lesser  evil.  All  was 


preparation  for  Edmund's  departure  ;  he  took  a  most  affecting  and  tender 
leave  of  his  family  and  of  his  mother  in  particular,  whom  he  fondly  loved. 
He  was  to  join  his  brother  officers  at  Plymouth,  from  whence  they  were  to 
sail.  The  day  after  his  arrival  at  that  port,  as  he  passed  through  part  of 
the  town,  which  commands  a  view  of  the  sea,  his  attention  was  attracted  by 
a  female  figure  sitting  at  a  window  of  one  of  the  houses  ;  her  cheek  rested 
on  her  hand,  which  thus  shaded  her  face ;  but  the  outline  of  the  head,  with 
its  drapery  of  golden  ringlets  falling  round  it,  and  the  elegance  of  the  slight 
delicate  figure  in  the  stillness  of  its  attitude,  reminded  him  of  a  face  and  form 
he  once  loved  in  all  the  pride  of  health  and  beauty.  His  heart  throbbed 
at  the  recollection,  and  he  stood  transfixed.  Slowly  the  lady  turned  to  gaze 
on  the  sea.  Oh  !  what  remorse  filled  his  soul,  as  the  present  shadowy  like- 
ness of  the  former  fair  original  met  his  view.  The  bright  colouring  of  the 
morning  bloom  was  gone ;  the  hue  of  death  had  replaced  it.  Alas !  how 
changed !  Yet  she  was  still  the  same.  Edmund's  frame  trembled  ;  his  brain 
seemed  on  fire.  In  the  impetuosity  of  youth,  he  sought  admittance 
to  the  house,  and  rushing  into  the  drawing-room  where  she  sat,  caught 
the  faded  form  of  his  deserted  wife  in  his  arms,  pressing  her  cold  lips,  and 
calling  her  by  every  endearing  title.  But  she  heard  him  not.  Unexpected 
joy  is  often  as  oppressive  as  sorrow.  It  proved  too  much  for  Rose,  in  her 
delicate  state  of  health,  and  ere  she  could  pronounce  her  husband's  name 
she  had  fainted.  He  rang  for  assistance  :  the  uncle,  and  Nora  appeared. 

It  is  vain  to  attempt  describing  Edmund's  feelings  of  shame  and  remorse, 
as  he  once  more  met  the  kind-hearted  old  captain.  He  could  only  say  that 
he  had  come  to  make  reparation  for  all  the  sorrow  he  had  caused  him,  and 
his  lovely  niece.  The  old  man  looking  towards  her  inanimate  form,  shook 
his  head  sorrowfully,  and  the  tears  trembled  on  his  eye-lids.  Nora's  resto- 
ratives recalled  Rose  to  consciousness.  Her  eyes  immediately  turned  to- 
wards Edmund,  who  knelt  beside  her.  As  she  met  his  returning  glance  of 
affection,  she  seemed  to  gain  strength.  Her  physician  (who  had  been  sent 
for)  and  her  uncle  would  not  then  permit  any  explanation  likely  to  excite 
her,  but  in  a  few  days  all  was  told,  and  Edmund  forgiven.  In  her  uncle's 
presence,  he  and  Rose  were  again  united,  according  to  the  rites  of  the 
Church  of  England,  and  the  young  husband  determined  that  nothing  but 
death  should  again  separate  them.  Yet,  how  could  she  undergo  all  the 
difficulties  of  a  long  voyage,  in  her  precarious  state  of  health  ?  The  troops 
were  under  sailing  orders  in  a  few  days,  and  he  must  accompany  them.  How 
leave  her  ?  The  physicians  declared  it  might  cost  her  life  to  take  her  to  sea, 
in  her  very  weak  state,  and  at  that  time  of  the  year.  Edmund  could  not 
oppose  them.  He  and  poor  Rose  were  again  doomed  to  part,  but  it  was 
arranged  that  she  should  follow  in  the  latter  end  of  May,  three  months 
after  his  departure,  under  the  protection  of  an  experienced  captain  and  his 
wife.  As  long  as  Edmund  remained,  Rose  seemed  to  improve  in  health. 
The  lustre  of  her  eye  brightened ;  the  colour  on  her  cheek  returned  in  greater 
loveliness ;  but  darkness  was  beneath  that  light,  and  death  beneath  that 
bloom.  Treacherous  consumption  ever  cheating  the  hopes  of  love,  preyed 
on  the  young  victim,  while  decking  her  with  beauty  for  the  grave. 

Edmund  was  at  length  forced  to  go,  and  after  the  sad  parting,  hope  still 
fluttered  in  the  young  wife's  bosom,  sustaining  her  fast  fleeting  existence. 
Her  uncle  promised  to  follow  her  and  Edmund  to  India,  but  was  now 
obliged  to  return  to  Ireland  in  order  to  dispose  of  his  property.  He  there- 
fore, on  a  beautiful  morning  in  the  latter  end  of  May,  committed  his  beloved 
child  to  the  protection  of  the  captain  and  his  wife,  who  promised  to  consider 

VOL.    IV.    NO.    XV,  E 


her  as  their  own,  until  they  restored  her  to  her  husband.  Poor  Rose  for 
some  time  seemed  to  revive,  under  the  influence  of  the  sea  air  and  voyage, 
and  her  kind  friends  began  to  trust  she  might  recover ;  but  it  was  a  false 
hope.  By  degrees  she  daily  grew  weaker.  One  lovely  evening  in  the  middle 
of  June,  they  carried  her  to  a  sofa  placed  for  her  on  deck.  She  had  been 
more  than  usually  weak  that  day,  and  they  hoped  the  freshness  of  the 
evening  breeze  might  revive  her.  The  captain's  wife  took  a  seat  by  her 
side.  Her  breathing  was  short  and  hurried,  yet  she  did  not  appear  to  suffer 
much.  The  sun  was  just  then  setting,  the  horizon  appeared  on  fire  lit  up  by 
its  golden  rays.  As  it  sank  to  rest  on  the  waters,  Rose  raised  herself  with 
much  difficulty  from  her  reclining  posture  to  gaze  for  a  moment  on  its  part- 
ing light,  which  she  had  ever  loved  to  contemplate,  when  it  beamed  at  sum- 
mer eve  on  all  the  matchless  beauties  of  her  distant  home.  The  efforts,  or 
the  feelings  uVexcited,  proved  too  much  for  her,  and  she  fell  back  exhausted 
on  the  couch  :  it  was  soon  evident  to  her  anxious  friends,  that  the  tide  of  life 
was  fast  ebbing  from  her  bosom.  She  looked  expressively  at  them,  then 
raising  her  eyes  to  Heaven,  and  breathing  a  fervent  prayer,  the  stillness  of 
death  stole  over  her  lovely  features,  proclaiming  too  truly  that  life's  short 
voyage  was  at  an  end.  The  bright  sun  had  set  on  her  for  ever.  No  church 
bell  tolled  for  her,  no  prayers  were  chaunted.  The  cold  ocean  was  her 
grave;  the  wild  cry  of  the  sea  birds  was  her  funeral  dirge,  and  the  morning 
breeze,  as  it  crested  the  wave,  breathed  a  requiem  to  her  departed  spirit. 
One  year  after  this  sad  event,  and  the  Beaumont  family  mourned  the  death 
of  their  youngest  son.  He  had  fallen  in  the  service  of  his  country. 

Captain  Fitzallan  survived  his  beloved  niece  but  a  few  months  ;  he  sleeps 
amidst  the  beautiful  ruins  of  Mucruss  Abbey. 


HENRY  the  Eighth  wrote  a  strong  hand,  but  as  if  he  had  seldom  a  good 
pen.  "  The  vehemence  of  his  character,"  says  D'Israeli,  "  convey  itself 
into  his  writing; — bold,  hasty,  and  commanding'.  I  have  no  doubt  that  the 
assertor  of  the  Pope's  supremacy,  and  its  redoubted  opponent,  split  many  a 
good  quill."  The  autograph  of  the  mild  and  feminine  Edward  VI.  is  fair, 
flowing,  and  legible  ;  and  that  of  Queen  Elibabeth,  stiff,  firm,  arid  elabo- 
rate, written  in  a  large,  tall  character,  and  with  very  upright  letters, 
denoting  asperity  and  ostentation.  Her  ill-fated  sister  queen,  poor  Mary 
Stuart,  wrote  elegantly,  though  usually  in  uneven  lines ;  in  a  style  indica- 
tive of  simplicity,  softness,  and  amiability.  James  I.  wrote  an  ungainly 
scrawl,  all  awry,  and  careless ;  strongly  marking  the  personal  negligence  he 
carried  into  all  the  affairs  of  life.  The  first  Charles's  was  a  fair,  open, 
Italian  hand,  most  correctly  formed  ;  and  his  successor,  the  witty  monarch's 
volatile,  heedless,  restless  character,  is  not  incorrectly  exhibited  in  his  little 
pretty  running  hand,  scribbled,  as  it  were,  in  haste  and  impatience.  The 
phlegmatic  temper  and  matter- of-business  habits  of  James  II.  are  evinced 
in  his  large  commercial  autograph;  and  Queen  Anne's  commonplace 
character,  in  her  good,  commonplace  handwriting. 



Castle  Coole,  co. 

THIS  noble  residence  of  the  Earls  of  Belmore  is  about  a  mile  distant 
from  Enniskillen,  on  the  banks  of  the  fair  Lake  Erne.  The  approach 
from  the  town  affords  a  fine  prospect  of  a  picturesque  sheet  of  water, 
studded  with  a  vast  number  of  islands  —  all  of  them  green,  and  many  of 
sufficient  size  to  afford  pasturage  to  flocks  and  herds.  I  know  no  part 
of  Ireland  more  interesting  than  this  country.  In  scenery,  in  historical 
fame,  and  modern  improvement,  it  rivals  every  country  in  Europe.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Hall,  in  their  work  on  Ireland,  must  be  regarded  as  good 
judges,  having  seen  and  observed  closely  almost  the  whole  of  the  United 
Kingdom,  and,  speaking  of  this  locality,  remark,  "  It  is,  however,  to  the 
grace  and  grandeur  of  Nature  that  we  desire  to  direct  the  attention  of 
our  readers.  Travel  where  they  will,  in  this  singularly  beautiful  neigh- 
bourhood, lovers  of  the  picturesque  will  have  rare  treats  at  every  step. 
It  is  impossible  to  exaggerate  in  describing  the  surpassing  loveliness  of 
the  whole  locality.  How  many  thousands  there  are,  who,  if  just  ideas 
could  be  conveyed  to  them  of  its  attractions,  would  make  their  annual 
tour  hither  instead  of  up  the  "  hackneyed  and  sodden  Rhine,"  infinitely 
less  rich  in  natural  graces,  far  inferior  in  the  studies  of  character  it  yields, 
and  much  less  abundant  in  all  the  enjoyments  that  can  recompense  the 
traveller  !  Nothing  in  Great  Britain  —  perhaps  nothing  in  Europe  —  can 
surpass  in  beauty  the  view  along  the  road  that  leads  into  Enniskillen. 
Now,  without  drawing  any  invidious  comparison  between  Lough  Erne  and 
the  Rhine,  I  must  say  that  I  think  it  a  shame  so  many  of  our  Irish  tourists 
will,  year  after  year,  betake  themselves  abroad,  leaving  unknown  and  un- 
noticed the  equally  charming  natural  beauties  of  their  own  green  Isle.  Is 
it  because  it  is  their  own  they  despise  it  ?  How  true  the  remark  —  "  What 
we  have  we  prize  not  at  its  worth,"  and  no  stronger  instance  exists  than 
the  fact  of  Lough  Erne,  the  Blackwater  in  Munster,  and  other  scenes, 
the  subject  of  delight  and  encomium  to  the  strangers  who  visit  them 
from  other  lands,  being  hardly  known  as  places  worth  the  trouble  of 
looking  at  to  the  inhabitants  of  Ireland,  and  seldom  sought  by  the  tourist. 
Let  it  be  our  pleasing  task  to  call  attention  to  these  neglected  scenes  — 
to  guide  the  native  footstep  thither  —  to  awaken  an  interest  for  Ireland 
in  the  breasts  of  Irishmen  of  all  shades  and  classes,  and  make  them  at 
length  feel  they  have  a  common  country,  and  as  we  are  essentially  an 
aristocratic  people,  no  where  can  this  be  so  appropriately  carried  out 
than  in  the  pages  of  the  Patrician. 

Castle  Coole  is  a  mansion  of  regular  uniform  style.  The  elegance  of 
the  design,  the  scale  of  magnificence  observed  in  the  internal  arrange- 
ments, and  the  singular  beauty  of  its  surrounding  scenery,  must  render 
it  an  object  of  admiration  to  every  age.  The  house  consists  of  a  square 
centre  with  extensive  wings,  along  the  centre  of  which  runs  a  facade 
supported  by  Tastun  pillars,  and  the  whole  being  of  Portland  stone  be- 

E  2 

52  »CASTLE    COOLK. 

speak  the  pure  and  elegant  simplicity  which  marked  the  designs  of  Pa- 
ladio.  A  graceful  approach  leads  nearly  round  the  mansion,  and  as  it 
traverses  the  wide  spread  lawns,  rich  and  varied  plantations  meet  the 
sight.  The  park  is  profusely  supplied  with  trees,  some  dotting  the  verdant 
mead  in  single  piles,  others  grouped  in  clumps.  Numerous  lakes,  some  of 
great  extent — bearing  wooded  islets  on  their  grassy  bosoms,  diversify  tree 
and  field.  I  never  witnessed  a  greater  profusion  of  water  fowl;  birds  of 
every  kind  that  haunt  the  stream  held  revelry  as  I  passed.  The  offices, 
also  faced  with  Portland  stone,  form  a  neat  and  well  ordered  quadrangle 
not  far  from  the  mansion.  The  view  from  the  hall  door  looking  over  a 
great  extent  of  country,  is  one  scene  of  striking  and  enchanting  loveli- 

The  family  is  of  Scottish  extraction.  John  Lowry,  a  native  of  Scot- 
land, having  emigrated  to  this  part  of  the  British  dominions  towards  the 
close  of  the  17th  century  settled  at  Ahenis  in  the  county  Tyrone..  As 
might  have  been  expected  he  took  part  with  the  supporters  of  William 
of  Nassau,  during  the  civil  wars  of  1688 — 9,  and  had  the  misfortune  to 
lose  his  wife  during  the  dreadful  privations  which  the  garrison,  besieged 
within  the  walls  of  Londonderry,  experienced.  Several  of  his  descend- 
ants represented  the  county  Tyrone  in  the  Irish  House  of  Commons,  and, 
on  6th  January  1781,  Armar  Lowry,  Esq.  M.P.,  was  elevated  to  the 
Peerage  of  Ireland  as  Baron  Belmore  of  Castle  Coole,  on  which  occa- 
sion he  assumed  the  name  and  arms  of  Corry.  Another  branch  of  this 
family  is  seated  at  Pomeroy  House,  represented  by  Robert  William 
Lowry,  Esq.*  The  Earldom  of  Belmore  was  conferred  by  creation  5th 
Nov.  1797.  The  present  earl  is  a  minor,  having  lately  succeeded  his  la- 
mented father. 

Before  leaving  Enniskillen,  1  paid  a  visit  to  a  very  astonishing  island 
in  Lake  Erne — Devenish  or  Daim  Inis,  signifying  the  Island  of  the  Ox, 
in  Latin  it  was  called  Bovis  Insula,  I  conclude  from  the  number  of 
these  animals  that  were  accustomed  to  browse  on  the  grass  which  grows 
so  luxuriantly.  It  contains  about  eighty  acres,  and  was  the  chosen  seat 
of  religion  and  learning  in  days  of  yore.  The  first  abbey  is  said  to  have 
been  founded  here  as  early  as  A.D.  563  by  St.  Laserian.  The  Danes 
frequently  plundered  the  monastery.  Over  the  altar  of  the  church  is  a 
richly  ornamented  window,  and  near  it  on  a  tablet  built  in  the  wall  is  the 
following  inscription  in  very  rude  raised  characters. 

Mattheus  O'Dubigan  hoc  opus  fecit 

Bartholameo  O'Flanagan  Priori  de  Daminio  1449.    - 

The  O'Flanagans — Lords  of  Tura — Tuath  Ratha,  i.e.  the  District  of 
the  Fortress,  had  considerable  possessions  along  the  borders  of  Lake  Erne, 
comprising  at  one  time,  the  whole  of  the  present  Barony  of  Maghero- 
boy,  but  sharing  the  fortunes  of  their  chief  king  and  kinsman,  Maguire 
Prince  of  Fermanagh,  lost  the  whole  of  those  estates  by  repeated  con- 
fiscations. On  the  Island  of  Devenish  is  one  of  the  most  perfect  round 
towers  It  is  built  of  hewn  stone,  each  about  a  foot  square.  The 
conical  roof  having  been  endangered  by  a  small  tree  growing  out  of  the 
slight  interstices,  caused  some  repairs  requisite  which  were  executed  with 
great  skill,  and  this  memento  of  the  days  of  old  restored  to  its  pristine 

*  Burke's  Commoners,  vol.  iii.  p.  140. 


Btlfmtnp  Castle. 

How  full  of  solemn  feudality  is  Kilkenny  Castle  !  Striking  at  once  both 
mental  and  bodily  vision,  for  its  site  is  not  only  majestic  and  grand, 
loftily  towering  over 

The  stubborn  Neure,  whose  waters  grey — 
By  fair  Kilkenny  and  Ross-ponte  borde, 

but  the  venerable  walls,  and  antique  bastions  speak  of  historical  associa- 
tions with  which  they  are  intimately  connected,  and  the  interest  is  excited 
by  the  magnitude  of  the  incidents  which  occurred  here. 

It  dates  with  the  arrival  of  the  English  in  this  country,  and,  though 
the  revolution  of  ages  have  effected  changes  in  the  possessions,  and  re- 
cent improvements  and  alterations  have  swept  away  traces  of  the  honour- 
able wounds  which  the  implements  of  war,  and  time  dealt  on  the  fortress, 
legend,  and  ballad,  and  chronicle  has  preserved  its  history.  The  original 
castle  is  said  to  have  been  built  by  Strongbow,  and  subsequently  de- 
stroyed by  the  Irish  shortly  after  its  erection  ;  but  the  place  was  deemed 
too  important  to  be  left  defenceless,  for  we  find  in  A.D.  1 1Q5,  a  spacious  and 
noble  castle  arose  from  the  ruins.  In  a  military  point  of  view,  (no  trifling 
object  in  those  days)  the  situation  was  most  eligible.  The  castle  was 
built  on  a  lofty  mound,  one  side  steep  and  precipitous,  with  the  rushing 
Nore  sweeping  round  its  base.  To  this  natural  rampart  was  added  a 
wall  of  solid  masonry,  forty  feet  high.  The  other  parts  were  defended 
by  bastions,  curtains,  towers,  and  outworks.  The  area  thus  inclosed 
contained  the  donjon  and  main  keep,  inhabited  by  the  distinguished  owner 
William,  Lord  Marshal,  Earl  of  Pembroke,  and  a  caserne  for  a  strong 
garrison.  In  1391  it  came  by  purchase  into  the  present  noble  family- 
having  been  bought  by  James  Butler,  third  Earl  of  Ormond,  a  descendant 
of  Theobald  Walter,  a  great  favourite  of  Henry  II.,  who  made  him  large 
grants  in  his  newly  acquired  Irish  territory.  He  filled  the  office  of  Chief 
Butler  of  Ireland,  which  became  hereditary,  and  the  surname  of  the 
family.  As  our  space  would  not  admit  our  dwelling  on  the  numerous 
important  events  which  these  walls  have  witnessed,  as  indeed  few  Chap- 
ters of  the  History  of  Ireland  omit  some  record  of  transactions  in  which 
Kilkenny  Castle  bears  a  part,  we  proceed  to  give  a  brief  notice  of  its 
present  appearance. 

Its  situation,  close  by  the  Nore,  is  of  extreme  beauty.  The  elevation 
is  considerable  and  affords  an  extensive  view,  as  the  castle  overlooks  the 
city,  and  the  sight  can  follow  the  windings  of  the  river,  through  many  a 
verdant  meadow,  shady  grove,  and  well- planted  lawn.  The  river  is 
clear  and  bright,  and  the  city  has  the  advantage  of  permitting  an  uninter- 
rupted prospect,  boasting  of  water  without  mud,  air  without  fog,  and 
fire  without  smoke.  So  that  when  the  eye  is  sated  with  gazing  on  the 
reaches  of  the  clear  sparkling  river,  now  glancing  along  fair  meadowy 
niches,  and  anon  lost  between  high  wooded  banks,  it  can  wander  over 
spire  and  gable  of  the  city,  and  here  wrapt  in  the  quiet  of  the  lordly 
dwelling,  the  visitor  listens  to  the  hum  of  the  busy- bustling  crowd,  who 
urge  their  laborious  callings  in  every  variety  of  city  life. 

The  castle  is  approached  from  the  town,  and  a  long  range  of  offices 


are  on  the  right  hand.  Neither  the  style  of  architecture  in  which  they 
are  built,  nor  the  entrance,  is  in  accordance  with  the  rest  of  the  castle. 
This  is  the  more  striking  from  the  proximity  to  the  venerable  walls. 
The  recent  buildings  are  in  the  best  taste,  and  well  executed.  Some 
basso-relievos  are  finely  sculptured.  We  went  through  many  of  the 
rooms  not  remarkable  of  size,  but  convenient  and  affording  pleasing 
views  of  the  country  round.  There  has,  however,  been  recently  com- 
pleted, a  splendid  picture  gallery,  about  150  feet  in  length.  This  con- 
tains a  great  collection  of  paintings.  The  belles,  the  wits,  the  courtiers, 
and  courtezans  of  the  Merry  Monarch  are  here  congregated,  and  the 
sight  is  dazzled  by  the  gorgeous  blaze  of  beauty,  and  dress,  depicted  by 
Sir  Peter  Lely  and  Sir  Godfry  Kneller,  until  the  weariness  of  excess  of 
glare  is  relieved  by  the  sober  colouring  of  Vandyke,  or  the  religious  ten- 
derness of  Carlo  Dolci.  Here  are  kings  and  Queens  in  all  their  pomp, 
King  Charles  I.  and  his  unhappy  queen  ;^King  Charles  II.,  King  James 
II.,  Queen  Mary,  Queen  Anne,  Royal  Family,  by  Vandyke,  Duchess  of 
Richmond,  by  Sir  Godfry  Kneller,  with  portraits  of  various  members  of 
the  Ormond  family,  scripture  pieces,  landscapes,  flowers,  mingled  with 
saints  and  sinners,  gay  knights  and  grave  senators,  a  motly  and  distin- 
guished array.  What  food  for  meditation  is  here  for  the  imaginative  mind  ? 
What  tales  these  silent  beings  could  tell  were  the  canvass  animated  ? 
Here  are  kings  who,  during  their  career  on  earth,  experienced  all  the 
vicissitudes  of  fortune,  the  privations  that  afflict  the  meanest  subject, 
hunger  and  poverty,  and  terror  of  enemies,  and  loss  of  friends  and  for- 
tune. One  was  exiled,  another  dethroned,  another  beheaded.  Here  are 
youthful  beauties  radiant  in  smiles  and  charms,  who  lived  till  these 
smiles  ceased  to  captivate,  and  these  charms  to  win  admiration.  What 
feelings  are  aroused  by  the  sad  fate  of  many  a  proud  noble  here  standing 
clad  in  his  peer's  robes.  The  battle  field  witnessed  the  death  throes  of 
some,  the  sod  of  a  foreign  land  covered  the  bones  of  others.  And  now 
their  fame  and  their  fate  lives  but  in  the  vague  legend  and  a  few  feet  of 
painted  canvass.  I  lingered  amidst  these  frail  memorials  of  greatness 
until  the  shadows  of  evening  deepened  the  gloom  of  the  old  towers. 
The  sun  sank  gorgeously  into  a  cradle  of  golden  rays,  pillowed  by  downy 
clouds  of  dazzling  whiteness.  The  Nore  hymned  a  vesper  song  as  the 
stars  shone  out,  and  the  hour  was  meet  for  reminiscences  of  the  past. 
There  floated  before  us  visions  of  the  former  owners,  the  Anglo-Norman 
invaders,  the  fierce  conflicts  with  the  Irish  Chiefs,  the  rivalry  between  the 
Butlers  andFitz  Geralds  of- Desmond;  the  feuds  that  existed  between  these 
Irish  Guelphs  and  Ghibellins  are  celebrated  in  the  annals  of  Ireland. 
Once  we  are  told  a  reconciliation  was  effected,  and  the  leaders  agreed  to 
shake  hands  j  but  they  took  the  precaution  of  doing  so  through  an  aper- 
ture in  an  oaken  door,  each  fearing  to  be  poniarded  by  the  other !  After 
the  battle  of  Affane,  on  the  banks  of  the  Blackwater,  the  Fitz  Geralds 
were  repulsed,  and  their  chieftain" made  prisoner.  While  weak  from  loss 
of  blood,  the  victors  were  bearing  him  on  their  shoulders,  and  the  Lord 
of  Ormond  triumphantly  exclaimed  "  Where  now  is  the  great  Earl  of 
Desmond  ?"  "  Here,"  replied  the  Lord  Gerald,  "  now  in  his  proper 
place,  still  on  the  necks  of  the  Butlers." 

"  The  antiquity  of  this  family,"  says  Burke,*  "  is  indisputable  }   but 
whence  it  immediately  derived  its  origin  is  not  so  clearly  established.  Its 

*  Peerage. 


surname  however,  admits  of  no  doubt  as  springing  from  the  chief  butler- 
age  of  Ireland,  conferred  by  Henry  II.  on  Theobold  Fitzwalter  in  117?." 
We  find  various  descendants  of  Theobold  sitting  in  the  Parliaments  of  the 
Pale,  and  filling  high  offices,  Lords  Justices,  &c.  The  Earldom  of 
Ormond  was  granted  to  James  Butler  in  1328,  by  creation  of  King  Ed- 
ward III.  James,  third  Earl,  purchased  the  Castle  of  Kilkenny  from  the 
heirs  of  Sir  Hugh  le  de  Spencer,  Earl  of  Gloucester  in  1391,  which  has 
since  been  the  principal  seat  of  this  family.  The  representatives  of  the 
House  of  Ormond  were  not  alone  distinguished  by  their  pride  of  ancestry 
and  martial  deeds.  Many  of  the  Earls  of  Ormond  were  famed  for  a  love 
of  literature  and  extent  of  learning,  quite  remarkable  in  their  time.  We 
need  not  refer  to  higher  authority  than  the  compliment  Edward  IV. 
paid  to  the  demeanour  and  conduct  of  John,  the  sixth  Earl.  "  If  good 
breeding  and  liberal  qualities  were  lost  in  the  world,  they  might  be  all 
found  in  the  Earl  of  Ormonde."  In  a  note  to  Hall's  Ireland,  vol.  ii.,  is  a 
curious  letter  stated  to  have  been  the  reply  of  a  very  loyal  man,  Sir  Piers 
Butler,  Earl  of  Ossory,  in  answer  to  a  proposal  of  the  Earl  of  Kildare, 
that  the  two  houses  should  unite  their  forces,  take  Ireland  from  the 
dominion  of  Henry  VIII.,  and  divide  it  between  them.  The  Earl  of 
Kildare  to  have  one  moiety,  Earl  of  Ossory  and  his  son  Lord  James 
Butler  the  other.  "  Taking  pen  in  hand  to  write  to  you  my  absolute 
answer,  I  muse  in  the  first  line  by  what  name  to  call  you— my  lord,  or 
my  cousin, — seeing  that  your  notorious  treason  hath  impeached  your 
loyalty  and  honour,  and  your  desperate  lewdness  hath  shamed  your 
kindred.  You  are,  by  your  expressions,  so  liberal  in  parting  stakes  with 
me,  that  a  man  would  weene  you  had  no  right  to  the  game  j"  and  so  im- 
portunate for  my  company,  as  if  you  would  persuade  me  to  hang  with 
you  for  good-fellowship.  And  think  you,  that  James  is  so  bad  as  to 
gape  for  gudgeons,  or  so  ungracious  as  to  sell  his  truth  and  loyalty  for 
a  piece  of  Ireland  ?  Were  it  so  (as  it  cannot  be)  that  the  chickens  you 
reckon  were  both  hatched  and  feathered ;  yet  be  thou  sure,  I  had  rather 
in  this  quarrel  die  thine  enemy  than  live  thy  partner.  For  the  kindness 
you  proffer  me,  and  goodwill,  in  the  end  of  your  letter,  the  best  way  I 
can  propose  to  requite  you,  that  is,  in  advising  you,  though  you  have 
fetched  your  fence,  yet  to  look  well  before  you  leap  over.  Ignorance, 
error,  and  a  mistake  of  duty  hath  carried  you  unawares  to  this  folly,  not 
yet  so  rank,  but  it  may  be  cured.  The  king  is  a  vessel  of  mercy  and 
bounty  j  your  words  against  his  majesty  shall  not  be  counted  malicious, 
but  only  bulked  out  of  heat  and  impotency ;  except  yourself  by  heaping 
of  offences  discover  a  mischievous  and  wilful  meaning.  Farewell." 

The  descendants  of  so  straightforward  a  subject  should  partake  of  his 
spirit,  and  a  hatred  of  court  favourites  appears  a  distinguishing  feature 
in  the  characters  of  the  Butlers.  In  Carte's  life  of  the  Duke  of  Ormond, 
we  find  the  hostility  of  the  Earl  Thomas  to  Queen  Elizabeth's  minion, 
the  Earl  of  Leicester,  not  confined  to  language.  He  used  often  tell  her 
Majesty  in  plain  terms  that  Leicester  was  a  villain  and  a  coward.  Com- 
ing one  day  to  Court  he  met  Leicester  in  the  anti-chamber  who  bidding 
him  good-morrow  said,  "My  lord  of  Ormonde,  I  dreamed  of  you  last 
night."  "  What  could  you  dream  of  me  ?"  asked  Ormonde.  "  I  dreamed," 
says  the  other,  "  that  I  gave  you  a  box  on  the  ear."  "Dreams,"  an- 
swered the  Earl,  "are  to  be  interpreted  by  contraries  j"  and,  without 
more  ceremony,  gave  Leicester  a  hearty  cuff  on  the  ear.  He  was  upon 
this  sent  to  the  Tower,  but  shortly  after  liberated. 


The  next  instance  of  courage  which  tradition  preserves,  is  related  of 
James,  afterwards  Duke  of  Ormond,  while  yet  a  very  young  man  about 
twenty-two  years  of  age.  He  went  to  attend  the  Parliament  in  Dublin  sum- 
moned by  Wentworth,  Lord  Lieutenant  to  Charles  I.  The  Lord  Deputy 
had  issued  a  proclamation  forbidding  any  member  of  either  house  to  enter 
with  his  sword.  As  the  Earl  of  Ormond  was  passing  the  door  of  the 
House  of  Peers,  the  Usher  of  the  Black  Rod  required  his  sword.  The 
request  being  treated  with  silent  contempt.  He  demanded  it  peremptorily, 
whereupon  the  Earl  replied,  "If  he  had  his  sword,  it  should  be  in  his  body, 
and  haughtily  strode  to  his  seat.  The  Lord  Deputy  summoned  the  re- 
fractory Peer  before  the  Privy  Council,  and  called  on  him  to  answer  for 
his  conduct :  upon  which,  Lord  Ormond  said  he  acted  under  the  oath  of 
his  investiture,  that  he  received  his  title  to  attend  Parliament  cum  gladio 
cinatus."  The  ability  and  courage  of  the  young  noble  obtained  him  great 
applause,  and  the  Deputy  perceived  he  had  better  conciliate  his  friend- 
ship, than  provoke  his  enmity.  He  accordingly  heaped  favours  upon 
him  ;  made  him  a  Privy  Councillor  at  the  age  of  twenty-five.  This  lord 
was  the  father  of  one  of  the  purest  characters  of  that,  or  any  age — the  Earl 
of  Ossory.  Of  him  was  it  truly  said — "  His  virtue  was  unspotted  in  the 
centre  of  a  luxurious  court  j  his  integrity  unblemished  amid  all  the  vices 
of  the  times  j  his  honour  intainted  through  the  course  of  his  whole  life." 
"  His  Majesty,"  exclaimed  Evelyn,  on  hearing  of  his  death,  "  never  lost 
a  worthier  subject,  nor  father  a  better  or  more  dutiful  son  :  a  loving, 
generous,  good  natured  and  perfectly  obliging  friend — one  who  had  done 
innumerable  kindnesses  to  several  before  they  knew  it  j  nor  did  he  ever 
advance  any  who  were  not  worthy  j  no  one  more  brave,  more  modest  j 
none  more  humble,  sober,  and  every  way  virtuous.  Unhappy  England ! 
in  this  illustrious  person's  loss.  What  shall  I  add  ?  He  deserves  all 
that  a  sincere  friend,  a  brave  soldier,  a  virtuous  courtier,  a  loyal  subject, 
an  honest  man,  a  bountiful  master,  and  a  good  Christian,  could  deserve 
of  his  prince  and  country." 

How  affecting  to  turn  from  this  fine  panegyric,  traced  by  the  hand 
of  generous  friendship,  revealing  the  peculiar  excellent  qualities  of  the 
deceased,  and  particularising  each,  to  the  passionate  burst  of  grief  j 
in  which  the  bereaved  Duke  must  have  indulged,  when  the  heir  of  his 
house  lay  a  corpse  before  him  ;  and  what  depth  of  feeling  and  sublime 
appreciation  of  the  inestimable  loss  is  contained  in  his  reply  to  some  ex- 
pression of  condolence — "  I  would  not  exchange  my  dead  son  for  any 
living  son  in  Christendom."  Surely,  such  an  instance  of  genuine  regard  for 
the  illustrious  dead  must  be  remembered  with  pride  by  their  descendants  ! 
How  well  the  Earl  of  Ossory  deserved  the  praise  bestowed  on  him,  and 
the  universal  grief  felt  at  his  death,  may  be  seen  from  the  following 
anecdote,  which  exhibits,  strong  filial  piety  and  fearlessness  of  Court 
favourites  which  the  King's  presence  could  not  restrain.  Not  long  after 
the  celebrated  attempt  of  Blood  to  kill  the  Duke  of  Ormond,  in  which  he 
had  nearly  succeeded,  being  on  his  way  with  him  to  Tyburn,  where  he 
resolved  the  Duke  should  hang,  when  he  was  rescued,  the  Earl  of  Ossory 
met  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  who  was  universally  beloved,  the  instiga- 
tor and  protector  of  Blood,  in  the  royal  chamber,  and  thus  addressed  him 
while  behind  the  King's  chair.  "  My  lord,  I  know  well  that  you  are  at 
the  bottom  of  this  late  attempt  of  Blood's  upon  my  father  j  and  therefore  I 
give  you  fair  warning,  if  my  father  comes  to  a  violent  death  by  sword  or 
pistol,  if  he  does  by  the  hand  of  a  ruffian,  or  the  more  secret  way  of  poison, 


I  shall  not  be  at  a  loss  to  know  the  real  author  of  it.  I  shall  consider 
you  as  the  assassin,  I  shall  treat  you  as  such,  and  I  shall  pistol  you,  though 
you  stood  behind  the  King's  chair ;  and  I  tell  it  you  in  his  Majesty's 
presence,  that  you  may  be  sure  I  will  keep  my  word." 

But  we  must  bid  adieu  to  this  noble  house.  The  present  Marquis, 
born  in  1808,  came  to  the  title  on  the  death  of  his  father  in  1 838  j  he 
is  married  to  a  daughter  of  General,  the  Hon.  Sir  Edward  Paget,  G.C.B. , 
and  it  is  to  his  taste  and  perseverance  the  Castle  of  Kilkenny  owes  its 
improved  condition.  We  might  suggest  an  alteration  in  the  entrance,  to 
preserve  the  harmony  of  the  structure,  which  is  unquestionably  one  of 
the  most  striking  of  our  Irish  Castles  and  Mansions. 



Hush  !  hush  !  green  forest,  cease  to  pour 

Thy  murmurs  on  mine  ear  : 
Thy  voice,  which  I  may  hear  no  more, 
Speaks  sadly  of  the  days  of  yore, 

Troubling  my  wandering  thoughts  with  fear  ; 
And  on  the  morrow  I  must  stand 
Before  the  mighty  Tzar,  with  blood-stain'd  hand  ! 

The  terrible  Tzar  will  say  to  me, 

"  Answer  me  well,  my  child ! 
And  be  thy  heart  from  terror  free — 
Son  of  a  peasant !  tell  to  me, 

Who  in  the  forest  lone  and  wild, 
Were  joined  with  thee  in  lawless  strife, 
The  chosen  comrades  of  thy  robber-life  ?" 

And  I  will  answer,  "  mighty  Tzar  ! 

The  truth  now  deign  to  know : 
Companions  four  had  I,  O  Tzar  ! 
The  darksome  night — my  scimitar — 

My  trusty  steed — my  bended  bow — 
These  were  my  four  companions,  Sire ; 
My  messengers — darts  hardened  in  the  fire  !" 

Then  will  the  Christian  Tzar  reply  : 

"  Honour  to  thee,  my  son  ! 
Who  brav'st  the  law  so  fearfully, 
Yet  know'st  to  speak  so  craftily : 

A  high  reward  well  hast  thou  won, 
For  lo  !  a  palace  waits  thee  on  the  plain — 
A  stately  gibbet,  and  a  hempen  chain  !" 





FRANCE  perhaps,  even  more  than  other  nations  which  can  boast  of  ages 
of  civilization  and  greatness,  has  among  its  people,  large  and  important 
bodies  who  cling  with  unalterable  devotion  to  the  feelings,  manners  and 
customs,  of  distinct  and  different  periods.  Thus  do  the  advocates  of 
the  dethroned  house  of  Bourbon  invariably  adopt  the  style  and  senti- 
ment which  characterised  the  courts  of  Louis  the  Great,  and  his  un- 
fortunate descendants.  Thus  too,  there  are  many  who  to  this  day,  in 
sorrow  be  it  said,  assume  the  bearing,  and  ape  the  antics  of  the  hideous 
French  republic.  How  dearly  also  do  the  JBonapartists  attach  themselves 
to  the  pompous  fashion  and  grandiloquent  tone  of  their  brief,  but  mag- 
nificent empire  ;  for,  with  them, 

Caesar,  thou  art  mighty  yet : 
Thy  spirit  walks  abroad. 

It  is  rather  singular  that  the  classic  drama  happens  to  be  alike  accept- 
able to  royalist,  republican,  and  imperialist.  The  supporter  of  the 
ancient  regime  fondly  cherishes  the  school  formed  by  the  Corneilles  and 
Racines  of  his  boasted  Ludovican  age.  The  Girondist,  or  Terrorist, 
regards  the  classic  stage  as  the  best  means  of  bringing  to  present  and 
perspicuous  view,  the  form  and  features  of  those  Greek  and  Roman 
commonwealths,  which  the  revolutionary  party  so  viciously,  and  miser- 
ably endeavoured  to  copy.  Again,  the  theatres  of  ancient  Greece  and 
Rome  were  in  accordance  with  the  amplified  state  and  proud  existence 
of  a  conqueror,  whose  models  were  Caesar  and  Alexander.  Indeed, 
during  the  continuance  of  Napoleon's  sway,  the  classic  drama  was  so 
popular,  that  the  taste  went  to  excess,  and  plays  became  the  mere 
vehicles  of  cold,  tedious  and  bombastic  declamation.  The  Romantic 
school  therefore  had  to  contend  against  the  fixed  prejudices  of  these 
three  parties,  which  it  could  never  overcome.  Its  eminent  success 
was  with  the  rest  of  the  people  j  but  the  classic  drama  still  retained 
its  hold  upon  a  portion  of  the  public.  There  were  authors  who  wrote 
for  it,  and  audiences  who  came  to  applaud  it.  Yet  it  would  probably 
have  followed  the  political  decline  of  its  favourers,  and  have  sunk  into 
very  infrequent  representation,  or  entire  disuse,  but  for  the  appearance 
of  an  actress  whose  great  genius  has  effected,  for  a  time,  the  complete 
restoration  of  the  classic  stage.  Mile.  Rachel  has  revived  Corneille, 
and  Racine,  and  rendered  popular  their  modern  imitators.  This  heroine 
of  the  Theatre  Fran£ais  resembles  in  personal  dignity  and  grace,  the 
master  statues  of  antiquity  :  her  mind  is  also  with  the  ancients.  Sub- 
dued by  her  wondrous  art,  the  romancists  themselves  come  once  more 
to  contemplate  and  to  sympathize  with  the  sorrows  of  Andromache,  or 
the  wrongs  of  the  sister  of  Horatius.  The  writings  of  the  classic  drama 
are  again  in  the  ascendant.  Among  the  more  modern  classic  authors, 
the  principal  of  later,  or  actual  existence,  are  Laharpe,  Chenier,Lemercier, 


Ducis,  Delavigne,  Guiraud,  Soumet  and  Latour.  The  "Philoctete" 
of  Laharpe  is  a  scholar-like  and  faithful  imitation  of  a  Grecian  play. 
The  Sieurs  Chenier  and  Lemercier,  (the  latter  afterwards  deserted  the 
classic  cause)  are  eminent  as  poets,  but  as  dramatists  are  now  little 
thought  of ;  their  works,  such  as  "  Tiberius,"  "  Clovis,"  "  Agamemnon," 
are  not,  we  believe,  patronized  by  Mile.  Rachel.  Guiraud  is  the  author 
of  the  tragedies  of  "  Les  Machabees,"  and  "  Compte  Julien,*'  and  others 
of  more  than  passing  merit.  Ducis  converted  the  plays  of  Shakespeare 
into  classic  dramas,  and  mainly  owed  his  success  to  the  acting  of  Talma. 
The  reputation  of  Casimir  De  La  Vigne  is  too  well  established  to  allow 
his  works  to  be  passed  over,  without  more  comment  and  consideration. 
M.  De  La  Vigne  is  really  a  fine  poet,  and  his  writings  frequently  display 
much  of  elegant  diction,  and  exquisite  pathos.  Unlike  his  romantic 
rivals,  he  never  verges  beyond  the  bounds  of  purity  and  propriety  ; 
indeed  this  is  a  virtue  common  to  most  authors  of  his  school.  De 
La  Vigne's  four  great  tragedies,  are  "  Don  Juan  d'Autriche,"  "  Les  En- 
fans  d'Edouard,"  "  Les  Vepres  Siciliennes,"  and  "Le  Paria."  We  prefer 
the  two  latter,  and  therefore  would  especially  notice  them.  "  Les  Vepres 
Siciliennes,"  as  its  name  announces,  takes  for  plot  that  terrible  massacre 
and  extermination  of  the  French,  which  occurred  at  Palermo,  in  1282, 
and  which  has  obtained  the  appellation  of  "The  Sicilian  Vespers." 
The  famous  John  of  Procida,  the  instigator  of  the  revolt,  is  introduced 
upon  the  scene,  and  his  stern  and  determined  character  is  well  pourtrayed. 
The  nature  of  the  subject  is  however,  little  suited  to  the  unity  of  time 
and  place  which  a  classic  dramatist  is  obliged  to  observe.  Instead  of 
having,  as  in  a  Shakesperian  play,  the  events  of  the  fearful  insurrection 
vividly  presented  to  the  audience,  the  story  entirely  depends  on  the 
descriptive  accounts  given  by  the  various  persons  of  the  drama.  Some 
of  these  narratives  are,  however,  told  with  spirit,  especially  that  of  the 
heroine's  confidant,  Elfrida,  who  has  witnessed  the  commencement  of 
the  massacre  in  the  church  of  Palermo.  Her  relation  is  as  follows  j  but 
of  course  the  reader  must  make  due  allowance  for  the  injury  done  to  the 
original  verse,  by  a  translation  into  English  prose. 

Elfrida.  "  I  slowly  ascended  the  steps  of  the  sanctuary,  still  strewed 
with  flowers  and  sacred  branches.  The  people,  prostrated  under  those 
ancient  arches,  had  begun  to  sing;  the  psalms  of  the  prophet-king,  when 
a  terrible  sound  shook  the  temple.  The  doors  moved  suddenly  on  their 
hinges.  They  opened.  Aged  men,  distracted  women,  priests  and 
soldiers  who  besieged  the  outlets,  the  former  pursued,  the  latter  threaten- 
ing, the  whole  rushing  against  each  other,  burst  over  the  threshold  in 
multitudes.  From  mouth  to  mouth,  fly  the  words  '  War  to  Tyrants.' 
Priests  repeat  them  with  a  savage  look :  children  even  respond.  I 
wish  to  fly,  but  suddenly  this  increasing  torrent  closes  the  path.  Our 
conquerors,  whom  a  profane  and  rash  love  had  to  their  destruction 
assembled  at  the  foot  of  the  sanctuary,  calm  though  surprised,  hear,  with- 
out fear,  the  tumultuous  cries  of  the  enraged  mob.  Their  swords  glitter ; 
numbers  increase  their  courage.  A  cavalier  rushes  forward,  opens  a 
passage ;  he  advances  with  precipitation.  All  yield  to  the  strength  of  his 
arm  :  the  dispersed  ranks  make  way  for  him.  He  offers  himself  to  their 
blows,  without  helmet  or  armour.  '  It  is  Montfort/  they  cry.  To  that 
shout  succeeded  u  long  murmur.  '  Aye,  traitors/  he  exclaimed,  '  my  name 
alone,  is  a  barrier  to  you.  Fly  from  hence  !'  He  spoke  thus  indignant — • 
pale  with  wrath,  and  waved  in  the  air  his  formidable  sword,  still  reeking 


with  the  blood  in  which  he  had  steeped  it — he  strikes  at  the  mob.  An 
emissary  from  the  Divinity  would  have  seemed  less  terrible  to  the 
affrighted  people.  But  Procida  appears,  and  the  stupified  multitude 
reassured  by  his  voice,  precipitate  themselves  forward,  and  surround 
Montford.  Loredan  forced  on  by  the  parental  authority  of  Procida,  fol- 
lows him  speechless  with  dismay.  I  saw  our  citizens,  worked  up  by 
their  fury,  massacre  each  other,  and  they  did  so  in  the  name  of  their 
country;  I  even  heard  the  priest,  as  he  stumbled  over  the  ruins  made  by 
the  havoc,  a  cross  in  his  hand,  utter  curses,  while  he  slew.  The  cries  of 
the  victors  and  the  vanquished,  are  confounded  together ;  the  echoes  from 
subterranean  tombs  respond.  The  fate  of  the  conflict  still  rests  in  suspense, 
when  night  overshadows  us  with  its  wings  of  darkness.  I  lose  my 
way  among  the  assassins,  and  in  uncertainty  I  seek  the  palace.  I  pro- 
ceed stealthily.  Oh  !  what  heaps  of  dead  and  dying  !  Is  another  day 
to  cast  its  light  over  that  horrible  picture  ?  May  the  sun  avoid  us.  May 
this  sanguinary  night  hide  from  the  whole  world,  the  crimes  it  has  en- 

The  "Paria1'  is  among  the  most  popular  of  M.  de  laVigne's  plays, 
and  is,  we  think,  his  most  graceful  production.  The  scene  of  this  tragedy 
is  at  Benares  in  India,  among  the  Bramins.  The  story  is  this  : 

Idamoro,  one  of  the  outcast  people  called  Parias,  has  quitted,  in  search 
of  worldly  adventure  and  advancement,  his  father,  by  whom  he  is  ten- 
derly beloved.  He  becomes  a  great  warrior  with  the  Bramin  nation, 
and  their  leader  in  a  hundred  victorious  battles.  The  fact  of  his  being 
a  Paria  is  unknown  to  them,  and  their  high  priest  Akbar  resolves  to  give 
him  for  wife  his  daughter,  Neala,  whose  affection  Idamoro  has  already 
secretly  won.  Unwilling  to  deceive  his  mistress,  when  about  to  wed 
her,  Idamoro  announces  to  her  his  belonging  to  a  tribe  that  is  accursed. 
She  is  at  first  horrified,  but  her  love  at  length  prevails,  and  she  still 
consents  to  espouse  him.  As  the  nuptials  are  about  to  take  place, 
Idamoro's  aged  father,  Zares,  comes  in  search  of  his  long  lost  son  :  he 
discovers  him  in  the  successful  conqueror,  and  implores  him  to  return 
with  him  to  their  own  country,[to  prevent  his  dying  of  grief.  Idamoro 
promises  to  do  so,  but  unable  to  quit  his  bride,  he  delays  and  permits 
the  wedding  to  proceed,  on  Ne*ala's  agreeing  to  fly  with  them  when  it  is 
over.  In  the  mean  time  Zares  is  recognized  as  a  Paria,  is  seized,  and 
about  to  be  put  to  death,  when  Idamoro  declares  himself  a  Paria  also,  and 
offers  himself  in  the  place  of  his  father  as  a  greater  victim.  The  indig- 
nant and  enraged  Bramins  accept  the  proposal.  Idamoro  is  led  to 
execution,  but,  while  on  the  way  thither,  he  and  his  constant  companion 
Alvar,  a  Portuguese  Christian,  whom  he  has  captured,  and  made  his  de- 
voted friend,  are  stoned  to  death  by  the  people.  Ne*ala,  on  hearing  his 
fate  avows  her  previous  knowledge  of  his  being  a  Paria,  and  she  is  sen- 
tenced to  banishment :  she  departs  with  the  aged  Zares,  whom  she 
determines  to  accompany  to  his  own  home  in  lieu  of  the  son  he  has  lost. 

The  whole  of  this  tragedy  is  very  skilfully  constructed,  according  to 
classic  rules.  The  language  is  throughout  poetic,  and  some  parts  dis- 
play great  spirit  and  harmony.  The  deaths  of  Idamoro  and  his  Christian 
friend  Alvar,  are  finely  described  :  the  following  is  the  literal  translation 
of  the  passage. 


"The  people  rush  forward  to  demand  their  prey,  mingling  cries  of  fury 
with  shouts  of  joy.  Idamoro  appears  haughty,  yet  his  look  is  serene  j 
he  divides  the  crowd,  walks  majestically  among  them,  and  seems  still  to 
lead  us,  and  to  exhibit  within  our  walls,  as  in  the  days  of  his  glory,  the 
pride  of  victory.  His  friend,  that  captive  foeman  tolerated  amongst  us 
as  long  as  the  unworthy  chieftain  himself  beheld  us  at  his  feet — the 
Christian  Alvar,  who  awaited  him,  rushes  to  his  side.  We  take  our 
ranks  in  mournful  silence,  whilst  the  Christian,  prolonging  his  adieux, 
importuned  our  looks  with  a  scene  of  blameable  compassion.  As  to 
Idamoro,  the  very  last  accents  of  his  sacrilegious  voice  braved,  as  he 
walked,  the  procession  that  led  him  to  his  death.  'Hasten!'  he  ex- 
claimed, '  what  Bramin,  or  what  warrior  reserves  to  himself  the  honour 
of  striking  me  the  first  ?'  When  he  passed  near  the  spot  where  from 
the  height  of  our  walls  his  armed  hand  had  sent  death  amongst  our  foes  ; 
'  Choose  for  my  place  of  slaughter/  he  cried,  '  these  rocks  with  which 
I  used  to  crush  your  terror-struck  enemies.'  The  people  waxes  in- 
dignant at  the  taunt.  In  their  prompt  justice  they  meditate  and  adopt 
a  second  punishment  for  this  new  offence.  Their  irritation  increases  as 
they  proceed,  and  they  prelude  with  insults  the  massacre  of  Alvar. 
Idamoro  stops  when  he  hears  their  menacing  voices.  The  bravest  recoil 
with  terror 5  when,  from  all  directions  a  thousand  avenging  arms  hurl 
upon  him  the  fragments  of  stone  that  lie  scattered  in  the  dust.  A 
perfect  cloud  of  missiles  arises  :  it  breaks  and  bursts  forth  with  loud 
din  and  tempestuous  force  upon  his  breast,  and  around  his  head.  Ida- 
moro protects  his  friend,  embraces  him,  and  opposes  in  vain  his  bosom 
and  his  arm  against  the  blow  intended  for  Alvar.  The  meek  Christian 
who  prays  while  he  falls,  fixed  an  eye  of  love  on  the  cross,  the  powerless 
symbol  of  his  idolatry,  invokes  it,  and,  his  countenance  radiant  with  hope, 
drops  at  the  feet  of  Idamoro,  while  pointing  out  the  heavens  to  his  friend. 
The  insensate  Idamoro  now  standing  alone,  weak  and  nearly  lifeless, 
still  fronts  us  amid  the  storm, — with  a  brow  of  defiance  he  still  proteots 
Alvar, — then  grows  faint — falls  overcome,  and  while  dying  covers  with 
his  own  mutilated  body  the  corpse  of  his  friend." 

Alexander  Soumet,  a  thorough  poet  in  tone  and  thought  has 
written  some  superb  classic  dramas :  among  others  may  be  men- 
tioned "Cleopatra,"  "Norma,"  "  Clytemnestre,"  and  "Jeanne  d'Arc.*' 
Of  these  "  Norma  "  has  been  immortalised  by  the  genius  of  Bellini,  and 
"  Jeahne  d'Arc  ''  is  rendered  famous  by  the  character  of  the  heroine 
being  a  favourite  performance  of  Mile.  Rachel.  Yet  the  romantic  sub- 
ject of  Joan  of  Arc  is  so  little  suited  to  the  narrow  limits  of  the  classic 
stage,  that  this  tragedy,  despite  of  beautiful  verse  and  acting,  hangs  hea- 
vily in  representation  :  to  exhibit  the  varied  fortunes  of  the  Pucelle 
without  changing  the  scene,  and  without  extending  the  time  beyond  a 
day,  is  an  undertaking  that  must  necessarily  mar  the  interest  of  the 

One  of  the  latest  writers  of  classic  tragedy  is  M.  Latour  de  Saint  Ybars, 
and  he  is  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  best.  His  "  Virginie"  is  an  ex- 
quisite production  :  its  fame  is  closely  connected  with  that  of  Mile. 
Rachel :  the  inherent  worth  of  the  play,  and  her  admirable  impersonation 
of  Virginia,  have  secured  to  its  frequent  repetition  delight  and  admiration. 
The  tragedy  opens  with  the  prayer  of  Virginia  to  the  household  gods, 
which  is  replete  with  classic  grace,  and  feeling.  The  following  is  a  ver- 
sion of  it  : 

62  THE    DRAMA    OF    MODERN    FRANCE. 

ACT  I.  SCENEI. —  Virginia  comes  from  her  chamber ;  she  carries  in  her  hands, 
with  religious  fervor,  the  violet  crowns  and  the  cup  containing  the  sacred 
grain  :  she  strews  the  grain  upon  the  altar  of  the  domestic  gods>  and  places 
the  crowns  upon  their  heads. 

Virginia. — "  Household  Gods,  you  who  watch  over  domestic  peace,  I 
cmoe  according  to  ancient  custom  to  invoke  you.  Oh  !  deign  to  re- 
ceive my  gifts  j  I  bring  to  your  altar,  crowns  of  flowers,  and  pure  offer- 
ings of  salt  and  grain.  For,  O  Gods  domestic!  protectors  of  my 
childhood ;  you,  it  is  who  have  acted  in  my  defence  in  every  danger. 
Behold  now,  those  other  divinities  who  foster  love,  are  withdrawing  me 
for  ever  from  the  paternal  roof.  Oh  !  Penates,  adopt  my  new  found 
family,  and  guide  my  footsteps  towards  that  future  which  my  heart  re- 
veals. I  quit  with  regret  your  modest  altar  and  its  calm  retreat.  My 
hope  of  happiness  is  great.  Yet,  I  weep  in  offering  you  this  last 
oblation,  while  I  feel  that  I  soon  must  quit  this  spot.  Oh,  household 
divinities  !  accept  my  farewell.  To  my  father,  above  all,  grant  some  share 
of  comfort,  so  that  the  thread  of  his  existence  may  be  one  of  silk  inter- 
woven with  gold.  I  think  with  sorrow  of  how  he  will  return  alone  this 
evening,  and  seat  himself  solitary  and  silent  at  his  hearth.  Bounteous 
Gods,  if  his  virtue  move  you,  drive  pallid -visaged  sleeplessness  and 
weariness  from  his  couch.  May  days  of  happiness  linked  one  to 
the  other  come  to  him  in  place  of  the  remembrance  of  sorrows 
that  he  must  forget  for  ever.  Dear  tokens  of  happiness, — sweet  gifts, 
render  me  more  handsome  in  my  lover's  eyes — more  worthy  of  his  faith. 
Ye  Gods  of  Hymen,  put  in  this  veil  of  the  priestly  Flamen  some  sovereign 

charm  to  captivate  Icilius'    soul This  day  then,  in  a  few  short 

moments  I  give  myself  as  a  wife  to  the  object  of  my  love.  Icilius 
pleases  me,  and  men  admire  and  extol  him  ;  yet  my  very  happiness 
troubles  me  and  makes  me  fearful.  Explain  to  me  this  strange  sen- 
sation of  my  heart.  This  day  am  I  to  become  the  mistress  of  his 
house,  and  yet  I  tremble  for  Icilius.  Oh,  pardon  me,  my  beloved,  I, 
who  doat  on  thee,  do  thee  offence  by  this  tremor :  still  I  feel  as  if  I 
would  willingly  return  to  my  childhood." 

In  a  former  number  of  "  the  Patrician,"  when  noticing  the  acting  of 
Mile.  Rachel  at  the  St.  James's  Theatre,  we  contrasted  this  tragedy  of 
Virginia  with  the  romantic  play  of  "  Virginius"  by  Sheridan  Knowles  .- 
we  still  scarcelyknow  to  which  to  give  the  preference.  M.  Latour's  work, 
however,  next  to  Talfourd's  Ion,  is  certainly  the  nearest  modern  assimi- 
lation to  the  dramas  of  antiquity. 

In  conclusion,  the  observations  of  Augustus  Schlegel  on  the  trage- 
dies of  France  in  former  times,  are  so  applicable  to  its  modern  classic 
drama,  that  we  cannot  do  better  than  here  extract  the  passage  from  his 

"  To  comprise,"  says  'M.  Schlegel,  "  what  I  have  hitherto  observed  in 
a  few  words  :  the  French  have  endeavoured  to  form  their  tragedy  accord- 
ing to  a  strict  idea  ;  but  instead  of  this  they  have  merely  hit  upon  an 
abstract  notion.  They  require  tragical  dignity  and  grandeur,  tragical 
situations,  passions,  and  pathos,  altogether  naked  and  pure  without  any 
foreign  appendages.  From  stripping  them  in  this  way  of  their  accom- 
paniments they  lose  much  in  truth,  profundity,  and  character  ;  and  the 
whole  composition  is  deprived  of  the  living  charm  of  variety,  the  magic 
of  picturesque  situations,  and  of  all  those  overpowering  effects  which 

THE    DRAMA    OF    MODERN    FRANCE.  63 

can  only  be  produced  by  the  increase  of  objects  under  a  voluntary 
abandonment  after  easy  and  gradual  preparation.  With  respect  to  the 
theory  of  the  tragic  art,  they  are  yet  nearly  at  the  point  in  which  they 
were  in  gardening  in  the  time  of  Lenotre.  The  whole  merit  consists  in 
extorting  a  triumph  from  nature  by  means  of  art.  They  have  no  other 
idea  of  regularity  than  the  measured  symmetry  of  straight  alleys,  clipt 
hedges,  &c.  In  vain  should  we  labour  to  make  those  who  lay  out  such 
gardens  comprehend  that  there  can  be  any  plan,  any  concealed  order  in 
an  English  park,  and  demonstrate  to  them  that  a  succession  of  landscapes, 
which  from  their  gradation,  their  alteration,  and  their  opposition,  give 
effect  to  each  other,  all  aim  at  exciting  in  us  a  certain  disposition  of 

Mile.  Rachel,  by  the  mere  force  of  her  genius,  may,  during  her  bril- 
liant career,  retain  the  ascendancy  of  the  classic  drama;  but  the  spirit 
of  Shakespeare,  once  admitted,  must  eventually  prevail  among  the  French 
— a  people  more  than  any  other  of  such  lively  intellect,  and  romantic 


There  appears  to  be  a  little  confusion  as  to  the  proper  style  to  be  used  in 
the  official  addresses  of  mayors  of  corporate  towns  ;  sometimes  we  see  them 
described  as  the  "  Right  Worshipful/'  and  at  others  the  "Worshipful." 
The  question  is,  which  is  correct  ?  There  being  no  particular  law  or  regula- 
tion, that  we  are  aware  of,  in  such  a  case,  beyond  custom,  it  seems  not 
inappropriate  to  enquire  whether  the  custom  could  not  now  be  rendered 
more  uniform,  by  the  universal  adoption  of  one  or  other  of  these  additions, 
whichever  may  be  considered  to  be  the  right  one.  In  the  "  Secretary's 
Guide,"  5th  ed.,  1831,  p.  95,  it  is  stated  that  Mayors  of  all  Corporations, 
with  the  Sheriffs,  Aldermen,  and  Recorder  of  London,  are  styled  the  "  Right 
Worshipful,"  and  the  Aldermen  and  Recorder  of  other  Corporations,  and 
Justices  of  the  Peace,  "  Worshipful."  An  opinion  is  entertained,  we  believe 
by  some,  that  only  mayors  of  cities  should  be  styled  "  Right  Worshipful," 
and  those  of  towns  "  Worshipful ;"  but  there  scarcely  seems  to  be  any  valid 
reason  for  such  a  distinction,  and  we  incline  to  think  that  the  former  is  more 
correctly  applicable  to  mayors  in  general.  The  term  "  Right,"  in  matters 
of  title,  denotes  a  more  exalted  step  than  another, — thus,  we  speak  of  the 
"  Most,"  and  "  Right,"  honorable  or  reverend,  as  a  degree  in  rank  higher 
than  merely  "  Honourable"  or  "  Reverend."  We  observe  also  that  it  is  the 
practice  in  London  to  style  the  aldermen  who  have  passed  the  chair,  the 
"  Right  Worshipful,"  and  those  below  the  chair  as  the  "  Worshipful"  only, 
although  all  are  equally  magistrates  ;  thus,  making  a  distinction  between 
those  who  have  been  mayors,  and  those  who  have  not.  If  the  recorder, 
justices,  and  aldermen  of  corporate  towns  are  properly  entitled  to  the  style 
of  "  Worshipful,"  it  seems  to  be  only  reasonable  and  proper  that  the  chief 
magistrate  or  mayor,  should  be  styled  the  "Right  Worshipful ;"  and  we 
think  it  advisable  that  the  latter  prefix  should  be  generally  adopted  and  sus- 
tained in  future,  in  all  places  the  cause  for  it  may  exist.  The  Mayors  of 
London,  York,  and  Dublin,  it  is  well  known  possess  the  title  of  "  Lord," 
and  are  addressed  as  the  "  Right  Honourable." 



IN  p.  254  of  our  2nd  vol.,  we  gave  our  readers  an  account  of  Valentine 
Greatreakes,  Esq.,  of  the  co.  Waterford,  whose  extraordinary  history  forms 
such  a  remarkable  feature  in  the  art  of  healing.  A  correspondent  has 
now  enabled  us  to  add  to  the  pedigree  of  that  family,  a  name  which 
was  then  omitted,  namely,  Captain  William  Greatreakes,  of  Affane,  who  was 
brother  to  the  celebrated  Valentine,  known  by  the  appellation  of  ''The 
Stroker."  This  Captain  William  had  a  daughter,  Anne,  who  was  wife 
of  William  Cooke,  Esq.,  of  Camphire,  in  the  co.  Waterford.  She  died 
the  10th  August,  1740.  Her  husband,  William  Cooke,  was  a  younger  son 
of  Robert,  of  Cappoquin,  in  the  same  county,  whose  eldest  son  was 
Robert  Cooke,  Esq.,  also  of  Cappoquin,  commonly  called  "  Linen  Cooke." 
William,  who  was  an  Alderman  and  Mayor  of  Youghall,  and  who^died^lst 
June,  1 742,  had  by  his  aforesaid  wife,  a  son,  Josiah,  who  died  7th  Decem- 
ber, 1754,  having  been  married  to  Miss  Baggs,  by  whom  he  was  father  of 
Robin  Cooke,  who  having  served  in  the  2nd  Battalion  of  the  Royals  with 
the  British  Army  in  North  America,  was  the  first  to  enter  the  breach 
at  Moro,  in  the  Havannah,  for  which,  on  his  return  home,  he  was  publicly 
entertained,  and  received  the  freedom  of  the  City  of  Glasgow.  The  Muni- 
cipal Act  conferring  the  freedom  is  now  in  the  possession  of  his  descendant, 
Thomas  Wigmore,  Esq.,  of  Bally vaddock,  co.  Cork.  Robin  m.  a  lady  of 
the  O'Brien  family,  of  the  co.  Limerick,  by  whom  he  had  an  only  child, 
Mary,  who  was  b.  in  1772,  and  m.  in  1787,  Henry  Wigmore,  Esq.,  of 
Ballyvaddock.  As  connected  with  the  celebrated  Valentine  Greatreakes, 
let  us  now  revert  to  an  equally  remarkable  personage,  Robert,  alias 
"  Linen"  Cooke,  before  mentioned,  to  have  resided  at  Cappoquin,  in  the 
same  county  Waterford.  This  Robert  Cooke  was  a  very  eccentric  and 
wealthy  gentleman,  and  had  several  estates  in  both  England  and  Ireland. 
His  first  wife  was  a  Bristol  lady,  and  in  consequence  of  his  visits  to  that 
city  he  caused  a  pile  of  stones  to  be  erected  on  a  rock  in  the  Bristol 
Channel,  which  after  him  was  called  "  Cooke's  Folly."  The  name  of  his 
second  wife  was  Cecilia  or  Cecily,  and  he  had  children,  John  of  Youghall, 
Robert,  Josiah,  and  two  daughters.  He  fled  to  England  in  the  troubles  of 
James  the  Second's  reign,  and  resided  sometimes  at  Ipswich,  in  Suffolk,  as  is 
related  by  Archbishop  King,  in  his  State  of  the  Irish  Protestants.  During 
his  absence,  the  Parliament  held  at  Dublin,  7th  May,  1 689,  declared  him  to 
be  attainted  as  a  traitor  if  he  failed  in  returning  to  Ireland  by  the  1st  of 
September  following.  He  died  in  1726,  upwards  of  eighty  years  of  age,  and 
by  his  will  directed  that  he  should  be  interred  with  his  son  John's  family,  in 
the  Cathedral  or  Church  called  "  Tempul,"  in  Youghall,  and  that  his  shroud 
should  be  made  "  of  linen,"  Amongst  other  particularities  he  had  his  coach 
drawn  by  white  horses  and  their  harness  made  of  hemp  and  linen.  His 
cows  were  also  white.  In  Smith's  History  of  the  county  Waterford,  this 
Robert  Cooke  is  reckoned  amongst  the  remarkable  personages  of  that 
county,  and  a  long  account  given  of  him.  Smith  says  of  him,  "  He  was  a 
kind  of  Pythagorean  philosopher,  and  for  many  years  before  his  death  eat 


neither  fish,  flesh,  butter,  nor  drank  milk  or  any  fermented  liquor,  nor  wore 
woollen  clothes  or  any  other  produce  of  an  animal."  From  his  constantly 
wearing  none  but  linen  garments  and  using  linen  generally  for  other  pur- 
poses he  acquired  the  appellation,  "  Linen  Cooke."  He  maintained  a  long 
controversy  with  the  celebrated  Athenian  Society,  and  in  1 69 1  published  a 
curious  explanation  of  his  peculiar  religious  principles,  supporting  them  by 
numerous  texts  from  Scripture,  and  at  the  end  of  all  was  printed  a  long 
prayer.  It  is  from  Captain  Thomas  Cooke,  an  uncle  of  this  "  Linen  Cooke," 
that  the  family  of  Cooke  or  Cooke- Collis,  now  settled  at  Castle  Cooke,  co. 
Cork,  derives  its  descent,  and  from  another  uncle,  Edward  Cooke,  the 
families  of  Kiltynan,  Cordangan,  and  Fortwilliam,  &c.,  in  the  co.  Tipperary, 
and  of  Parsonstown,  in  the  King's  county,  are  descended. 


Lady  Elizabeth  D'Arcy,  the  fair  and  richly  portioned  daughter  of 
Thomas,  Earl  Rivers,  was  wooed  by  three  suitors  at  the  same  time ;  and 
the  knights,  as  in  chivalry  bound,  were  disposed  to  contest  the  prize  with 
targe  and  lance  ;  but  the  lady  forbade  the  battle,  and  menaced  disobedience 
with  her  eternal  displeasure,  promising,  however,  jocularly,  that  if  they  had 
but  patience,  she  would  have  them  all  in  their  turn;  and  she  literally 
fulfilled  her  promise,  for  she  married,  first,  Sir  George  Trenchard  of 
Wolverton,  who  left  her  a  widow  at  seventeen  ;  secondly,  Sir  John  Gage  of 
Firle ;  and,  thirdly,  Sir  William  Hervey  of  Ickworth ; — the  three  original 
claimants  for  her  hand. 


The  Noble  House  of  Cavendish  is  indebted  to  the  third  wife  of  Sir 
William  Cavendish,  the  faithful  friend  of  Wolsey,  for  the  principal  part  of 
its  vast  possessions.  That  lady,  the  daughter  and  co-heir  of  John  Hard- 
wick  of  Hardwick,  erected  three  of  the  most  splendid  seats  ever  built  by  a 
single  person, — Chatsworth,  Hardwick,  and  Oldcotes.  She  was  four  times 
married;  1st,  to  Robert  Barley,  Esq.,  of  Barley;  2dly,  to  Sir  William 
Cavendish  ;  3rdly,  to  Sir  William  St.  Loo ;  and  4thly,  to  George,  Earl  of 
Shrewsbury.  "  She  prevailed,"  says  Lodge,  "  upon  the  first  of  these 
gentlemen,  who  died  without  issue,  to  settle  his  estate  upon  her  and 
her  heirs,  who  were  abundantly  produced  from  her  second  marriage.  Her 
third  husband,  who  was  very  rich,  was  led  by  her  persuasions  to  make  a 
similar  disposition  of  his  fortune,  to  the  utter  prejudice  of  his  daughters  by 
a  former  wife  ;  and  now,  unsated  with  the  wealth  and  caresses  of  three 
husbands,  she  finished  her  conquests  by  marrying  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury, 
the  richest  and  most  powerful  peer  of  his  time.  To  sum  up  her  character, 
she  was  a  woman  of  masculine  understanding  and  conduct,  proud,  furious, 
selfish,  and  unfeeling.  She  was  a  builder,  a  buyer,  and  seller  of  estates,  a 
money  lender,  a  farmer,  and  a  merchant  of  lead,  coals,  and  timber.  She 
lived  to  a  great  old  age,  and  died  in  1607,  immensely  rich. 


To  the  Editor  of  the  Patrician. 
I  subscribe  to  the  "  Patrician,"  and  on  casting  my  eye  over  the  recent 

VOL    IV. NO.    XV.  F 


list  of  presentations  at  Court,  I  read  the  name  of  Rudyerd;  it  occurred  to 
me  that  it  was  worthy  some  little  notice,  as  being  of  a  family  whose  pedi- 
gree can  be  traced  as  far  back  as  1030,  (I  possess  one)  and  as  you  give  a 
short  account  of  many  of  the  families,  leave  it  to  your  better  judgment  as 
to  inserting  the  following,  or  any  other  that  may  be  in  your  possession. 
And  am  Sir, 

Yours  obediently, 


The  family  of  Rudyerd,  of  Rudyerd,  one  of  considerable  importance,  was 
settled  in  the  parish  of  Leek,  co.  Stafford,  long  prior  to  the  Norman  Conquest ; 
evidence  whereof  may  be  found  in  Doomsday  book  and  other  records  of  the 
pure  Saxon  origin.  One  of  the  family,  Richard,  accompanied  Richard 
CoBur  de  Lion  to  the  Crusades,  where  he  distinguished  himself.  Rudulphus, 
Lord  of  Rudyerd,  living  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.,  joined  Lord  Stanley 
with  a  large  body  of  men  at  the  battle  of  Bosworth,  and  tradition  in 
the  family  says  he  was  the  person  who  slew  the  King.  Henry  VII.  on  this 
occasion  added  to  the  arms — on  a  canton  a  rose  or  in  a  field  gules. 

In  later  years  (1708),  one  Mr.  John  Rudyerd  planned  and  erected  the 
Eddystone  Lighthouse,  a  fabric  admirably  adapted  to  resist  the  elements  it 
had  to  oppose,  and  stood  the  test  of  nearly  fifty  years,  until  destroyed  by 
fire  2nd  December,  1755. 

Sir  Benjamin  Rudyerd,  Judge  and   Surveyor  of  the  Court  of  Ward  and 
Liveries  in  the  time  of  Charles  and  Oliver,  of  Westwoodhay,  co.  Berks, 
Knt.,  was  called  to  the  bar  at  the  age  of  twenty-six,  married  Mary,  dau.  of  Sir 
Henry  Harrington,  and  left  issue  an  only  son,  Wm.  Rudyerd,  who  married 
Sarah,  one  of  the  five  daughters  and  coheiresses  of  Sir  Stephen  Harvey, 
of  Melton    Maler,  co.   Northampton,  left  issue    an    only  son,    Benjamin 
Rudyerd,  who  married  Dorothy,  one  of  the  two  daughters  and  coheiresses 
of  Sir  Benjamin  Maddox,  Bart,,  of  Wormleybury,  co.  Herts,  by  Dorothy, 
his  wife,  sole  heir  of  Sir  William  Glascock,  of  King's  Langley,  same  co., 
Knt.  Master  of  the  Court  of  Requests  to  King  Chas.  II.,  &c.     By  THIS  first 
marriage  Mr.  B.  Rudyerd  had  several  children ;   the  elder,  Robert,   married 
Jane,    only   daughter   and  heiress   of  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Chaplin;  left  issue 
Benjamin  Rudyerd,  Captain  Coldstream  Guards,   who  died   unmarried  in 
Nova  Scotia,  1752.     By  the  second  marriage  of  Mr.  B.  Rudyerd  to  Miss 
Beamont,  of  Yorkshire,  descended  the  late  Richard  Rudyerd  of  Whitby,  in 
same  co.,  who   married   Miss  Yeomans,   but  died  witout  issue,   and   his 
brothers,  the  late  General  Rudyerd  of  the  Royal  Engineers,  who  married 
Mary,  daughter  of  S.  Pryer,  Esq.,  of  Lichfield,  Hants,  an  ancient  family ; 
the  General  died  in  1828,  aged  88,  whose  surviving  issue  is  Col.  Rudyerd 
of  the  Royal  Artillery  (who  from  his  distinguished  services  at  Waterloo, 
&c.,   was   lately   promoted   to  the  superintendence   of  the  Royal  Reposi- 
tory at  Woolwich,  and  presented  at  court,  24th  February,  1847).     Charles 
Lennox   Rudyerd,  late   paymaster  of   the  Ardean   Canal,    Canada ;     and 
a   daughter,   Lsetitia,   married    1st,    Robert    Gordon  of   Xeres,  Esq.,  by 
whom   had  issue   a  daughter,    married  —  Baxter,   Esq.,    late   Attorney 
General  at  Sidney,  N.  S.  Wales,  and  secondly  Christopher  Richardson  of 
Field  House,  Whitby,  Yorkshire.     The  two  sons,   who   died   before   their 
father  the  General,  were  Col.  William,  of  the  Engineers,  and  Capt.  Henry, 
of  the  East  India  Company,  both  leaving  issue,  and   followed  for  a  time 
the  family  profession  of  arms. 




A  correspondent  favours  us  with  the  following  pedigree  of  the  family  of 
Henry  Welby,  Esq.  of  Goxhill,  the  London  recluse,  whose  eccentric  career 
we  described  in  a  former  number. 

Ellen  Hall,  =f  Adlard  Welby,  Esq. 
1st  -wife.        (  d.  1571. 

of  Gedney  ,=f=Cassandra, 
2nd  wife. 

of    Goxhill,  the 
great  Recluse  of 
Grub  Street,Lon- 
don,   d.   29  Oct. 
1636,  £et.  84. 

pAlice  dau.  of    Ad-    Rev.  BasilWelby,    SirWm.  Wel-=i 
Thos.  White,    lard,   who  shot  at  his    by,of  Gedney 
Esq.  of  Wood-              brother    Henry,     Knt.   of  the 
head,  in  Rut-             with  intent   to      Most   Noble 
land,    and    of             kill  him  ;  he  was    Order  of  the 
Tuxford,  Notts,             a  dissolute  cha-    Bath,  (late  of 
by    Anne,    his           racter.                     Gedney, 
wife,  (sister   of                                          1631.) 
Lord  Burleigh.) 

Elizabeth  ,= 
an  only 

=Sir  Christopher    William  Welby  ,= 
Hildyard,   of        Esq.   son  &  heir 
Wynestead,          of    Sir  William 
Knt.  d.  1636.        Welby,    late    of 
Gedney,  deceas- 
ed, d.  11  Dec.,  8 
Charles  I.  1632. 

=Anne  Smithe,(dau.  Vin-         Philip, 
of  George  Smythe,  cent,        of  Ged- 
Esq.  of  the  city  of  brother       ney, 
London,  citizen  and  of  Wm.     Esq. 
alderman,)  survived  1631.        1635. 
her  husband,  and 
in  1635    was   the 
wife    of   Francis 
Vernon,Esq.  of  the 
city  of  London. 


Henry  Hildyard,=f 
of  East  Horsley, 
in  Surrey,  Esq. 
d.  Jan.  1674. 

^Lady  Ann   Leake,       Sir 
dau.  of  Francis,  1st   Robert, 
Baron  d'Eyncourt,    d.  1685. 
of  Sutton,  and  Earl 

Chris-     Ed-     Philip.  Chas.     Adlard 
topher,  ward.                            Welby, 
d.1694.                                      1655. 

Dorothy,  dau.  of  Thomas  Gran-=j=Henry  Hildyard,  Esq.of  Kel-=j=Elizabeth,   dau.   of 
tham,  Esq.  of  Goltho,  d.  1667-     stern  in  Lincoln,  d.  abroad.       John  Hilder,  Esq. 
1st  wife.  2nd  wife. 

Christopher     Hild-= 
yard,the  son  of  Hen. 
Hildyard,    of    Kel- 
stern,  and  the  grand- 
son and  heir  at  law, 
of  Henry  Hildyard, 
of     East    Horsley, 
and      Lady      Ann 
Leke,  his  wife. 

=Jane,  dau.    Wm.  Ann.   Fran-   Thos.     Mi-     William,    Richd. 
of   George                        cis.                   chael.   d.  1691.    d.  1695. 
Pitt,  of 
saye,  ances- 
tor of  Lord 
Rivers.  [ 

Ann.~Birch.     Jane.=John  Mar-     Dorothy,  survived  and=f  George  Clay-    Elizabeth, 
shall.            afterwards    m.  to  her  j  ton,  cf  Great      d.   unm. 
second  husband,  Ralph     Grimsby. 
Tennyson,     of    Great  I 

Christopher  Clayton,  Esq.  of  Great 
Grimsby,  d.s.p.  1795,  nephew  Geo. 
Tennyson,  his  executor.  I 

David.     Eliza  =r=Michael       Ann.     Jonathan, 
beth.    I  Tennyson, 

b  c 



Georsre  Tennyson,  Esq.  of  Bayons  Manor ,=f  Mary  Turner,  dau  of  John 

_.    J  __  .  w  •  i  Jl    m  _  __  ~C  /~i«I«<^— . 

and  Usselby  Hall,  co 


Lincoln,  son  and    Turner,  of  Caistor. 


I    I    I 

Rev.  George  = 
Clayton  Ten- 
nyson, D.D. 

=Elizabeth,   dau. 
of  the  Rev.  Ste- 
phen Fytche. 

The  Rt.  Hon.=f 
Charles  Ten- 
nyson, d'Eyn- 
court,    M.P. 
of  Bayons 
Manor  and 
Usselby  Hall, 
co.  Lancaster. 

=Frances  Mary,      Eliza-=i 
only   child  of       beth. 
Rev.John  Hut- 
ton,  of  Morton 


Esq.  of 

Charles  Tennyson  Tur-    Alfred 
ner,  Esq.  of   Caistor,    Tenny- 
assumed  the  name  of     son, 
Turner,  under  the  will      the 
of  his  uncle  the   Rev.    Poet. 
Samuel     Turner,     of 

Other    George  Hild-  Other    Wm.  Rus-  Emma  Ma- 
issue,      yard,  eldest    issue.     sell,Esq.  of  ria,  m.  the 
son  and  heir                 Brance-        Hon.   Gus- 
apparent.  -                   peth.             tavus   Fre- 


In  a  letter  from  Dr.  Brett  to  Dr.  Warren,  president  of  Trinity-hall,  Cam- 
bridge, dated  September  1,  1723,  it  is  said,  that  about   Michaelmas,  1720, 
the  doctor  went  to  pay  a  visit  to  Heneage,  Earl  of  Winchelsea,  at  Eastwell- 
house,  where  that  nobleman  shewed  him  an  entry  in  the  parish  register, 
which  the  doctor  transcribed  immediately  into  his  almanack  ;  it  stood  thus  : 
"  1550,  Richard  Plantagenet  was  buryed  the  22  daye  of  December."     The 
register  did   not  mention  whether  he  was  buried  in  the  church  or  church- 
yard, nor  could  any  memorial  be  retrived  of  him,  except  the  tradition  pre- 
served in  the  family,  and  some  remains  of  his   house.     The   story  of  this 
man,  as  it  was  related   by  the    Earl   of   Winchelsea,  is  thus  : — When  Sir 
Thomas  Moyle  built  Eastwell-house,  he  observed,  that  when  his  chief  brick- 
layer left  off  work,  he  retired  with  a  book.     Sir  Thomas  had  a  great  curiosity 
to  know  what  book  the  man  read  ;  but  was  some  time  before  he   could  dis- 
cover it,  he  always  putting  the  book  up  if  any  one  came  towards  him.     A  t 
last,  however,  Sir  Thomas  surprised  him,  and  snatched  the  book  from  him, 
and  looking  upon  it,  found  it  to  be  Latin  :  hereupon  he  examined  him,  and 
finding  he  pretty  well  understood  that  language,  enquired  how  he  came  by  his 
learning  ?     On  which  the  man  told  him,    as  he  had  been  a  good  master   to 
him,  he  would  venture  to  trust  him  with  a  secret  he  had  never  before  revealed. 
He  then  informed  him,  that  he  was  boarded  with  a  Latin  schoolmaster,  with- 
out knowing  who  his  parents  were,  till  he  was  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  old  ; 
only  a  gentleman  who  took  occasion  to  acquaint  him  he  was  no  relation  to 
him,  came  once  a  quarter  and  paid  for  his  board,  and  took  care  to  see  that 
he  wanted  for  nothing  ;  and  one  day  this  gentleman  took  him,  and   carried 
him  to  a  fine  great  house,  where  he  passed  through  several  stately  rooms,  in 
one  of  which  he  left  him,  bidding  him  to  stay  there  ;    then  a  man   finely 
dressed,  with  a  star  and  garter,  came  to  him,  asked  him  some  questions, 
talked  kindly  to  him,  and  gave  him  some  money  ;  then  the  forementioned 
gentleman  returned  and  conducted  him  back  to  his  school.     Some  time  after, 
the  same  gentleman  came  to  him  again  with  a  horse,  and  proper  accoutre- 


ments,  and  told  him  he  must  take  a  journey  with  him  into  the  country. 
They  then  went  into  Leicestershire,  and  came  to  Bosworth  Field,  and  he  was 
carried  to  Richard  the  Third's  tent.  The  king  embraced  him,  and  told  him 
he  was  his  son.  "But  child,"  said  he,  "to-morrow  I  must  fight  for  my 
crown,  and  assure  yourself  if  I  lose  that,  I  will  lose  my  life  too,  but  I  hope  to 
preserve  both.  Do  you  stand  in  such  a  place,  (directing  him  to  a  particular 
place)  where  you  may  see  the  battle  out  of  danger,  and  when  I  have  gained 
the  victory,  come  to  me.  I  will  then  own  you  to  be  mine,  and  take  care  of 
you ;  but  if  I  should  be  unfortunate  as  to  lose  the  battle,  then  shift  as  well 
as  you  can,  and  take  care  to  let  nobody  know  I  arn  your  father,  for  no  mercy 
will  be  shown  to  any  one  so  nearly  related  to  me."  Then  the  king  gave 
him  a  purse  of  gold,  and  dismissed  him.  He  followed  the  king's  directions, 
and  when  he  saw  the  battle  was  lost,  and  the  king  killed,  he  hastened  to  Lon- 
don, sold  his  horse  and  fine  clothes,  &nd  the  better  to  conceal  himself  from 
all  suspicion  of  being  the  son  of  a  king,  and  that  he  might  have  the  means  to 
live  by  his  honest  labour,  he  put  himself  apprentice  to  a  bricklayer,  but  having 
a  competent  skill  in  the  Latin  tongue,  he  was  unwilling  to  lose  it,  and  having 
an  inclination  to  reading,  and  no  delight  in  the  conversation  of  those  he  was 
obliged  to  work  with,  he  generally  spent  all  the  time  he  had  to  spare  in 
reading  by  himself.  Sir  Thomas  said,  "  you  are  now  old,  and  almost  past 
your  labour,  and  I  will  give  you  the  running  of  my  kitchen  as  long  as  you 
live."  He  answered,  "  Sir,  you  have  a  numerous  family  ;  I  have  been  used 
to  live  retired ;  give  me  leave  to  build  a  house  of  one  room  for  myself  in 
such  a  field,  and  there,  with  your  good  leave  I  will  live  and  die  ;  and  if  you 
have  any  work  that  I  can  do  for  you,  I  shall  be  ready  to  serve  you.  Sir 
Thomas  granted  his  request ;  he  built  his  house,  and  there  continued  to  his 
death.  This  Richard  Plantagenet  must  have  lived  to  the  age  of  81,  for  the 
battle  of  Bosworth  was  fought  the  22d  of  August,  1485,  at  which  time  hp 
was  between  fifteen  and  sixteen. 


Quanno  nascette  Ninno  a  Betelemme, 

Era  notte,  e  parea  miezo  juorno ; 

Maje  li  stelle 

Lustere  e  belle 

Se  vedetteno  accussi 

La  chiti  lucente 

Tettea  chiammk  li  Magi  in  Oriente. 

*  One  of  those  little  moral  hymns  which  the  Zampognari  or  pipers,  from  the  Abruzzi 
and  Calabrian  mountains,  sing  before  the  images  of  the  Virgin  at  the  corners  of  the  streets 
in  Rome  and  Naples  at  the  season  of  Advent,  accompanied  by  the^  sound  of  their  rustic 


No'  ncerano  nemice  ppe  la  terra, 
«    La  pecora  pasua  co  lo  Hone, 
Co  lii  crapette 
Se  vedette 

Lu  liopardo  pazzia — 
L'  urzo  co  vitrello 
E  co  lo  lupo  'ripace  u  pecoriello. 

Guardavano  le  pecore  li  pasture 

E  1'Angelo  gbrannente  chiti  de  lu  sole 


E  li  dicette, 

Non  ve  spaventate,  n6  ; 

Contento  e  riso 

La  terra  £  arreventata  Paravuo. 

When  Christ  in  Bethlehem  was  born, 

Twas  night,  but  seemed  the  noon  of  day, 

Each  shining  star 

In  heaven  afar, 

Shed  o'er  the  earth  its  lightest  ray  j 

But  one  than  all  the  rest  more  bright 

Guided  the  Eastern  Magi  onward  by  its  pure  and  golden  light. 

Then  o'er  the  world  reigned  Peace  and  Love ; 

1  he  lion  and  the  simple  sheep, 

The  pard  and  kid 

Together  feed, 

Or  o'er  the  lawns  securely  sleep  ; 

The  wolf  and  lamb,  the  calf  and  bear, 

Repose  in  safety  each,  nor  seek  the  forest's  dark  and  leafy  lair. 

The  Shepherds  as  they  watched  their  flocks, 
A  sunlike  angel  saw  descend, 
Who  sweetly  said, 
"  Be  not  dismayed, 
With  joyful  tidings  here  I  wend  ! 
For  Earth  puts  on  her  loveliest  guise, 

And  shines  in  heavenly  beauty  now,  transformed  anew  to  Paradise," 






IN  these  days  of  perpetual  motion,  when  not  only  the  loyal  lieges  "of  our 
sovereign  lady,  but  the  good  citizens  of  the  world  beside,  are  making  such 
marvellous  efforts  to  subdue  time  and  space,  it  may  be  found  as  instructive 
as  it  is  obviously  pertinent  to  institute  comparison  between  the  present — 
and  those  good  old  times  "  all  times,  when  old,  are  good" — wherein  your 
honest  country  gentleman  deemed  it  prudent  to  devise  his  lands  and  tene- 
ments, and  otherwise  adjust  his  mundane  affairs,  ere  he  perilled  life  and 
limb,  by  coach  or  waggon,  athwart  that  dreary  stretch  of  country  which  lay 
between  the  great  cities  of  York  and  London  :  by  coach  or  waggon,  we  say, 
for  the  bold  baron  and  his  noble  dame,  of  some  centuries  before,  on  steed 
and  palfrey,  scorning  all  other  canopies  but  that  of  heaven,  come  not  within 
the  range  of  our  similitude,  maugre  they  flourished,  like  ourselves,  in  Iron 
Times.  The  wife  of  Bath,  whose  praise  it  was  that—  t 

"  Girt  with  a  pair  of  sporres  sharpe, 
Upon  an  ambler  esily  she  sat/ 

would  doubtless  have  felt  herself  insulted,  had  a  carriage  been  selected  for 
her  use.  At  a  time  when  roads  were  scarcely  passable,  the  palfrey  and  the 
litter  were  the  only  modes  of  ladies'  conveyance  ;  and  even  after  the  intro- 
duction of  coaches,  the  use  of  litters  continued  both  in  England  and  France. 
In  1527,  when  Wolsey  visited  the  latter  kingdom  to  negotiate  a  peace,  we 
find  that  the  dame  regent,  the  king's  mother,  entered  Amiens,  "  riding  in  a 
very  riche  chariot ;  and  with  her  therein  was  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  her 
daughter,  furnished  with  a  hundred  and  more  of  ladies  and  gentlewomen 
following,  every  one  riding  upon  a  white  palfrie ;  besides  diverse  and  many 
ladies,  some  in  riche  horse-litters,  and  some  in  chariots."  The  king,  though 
attired  with  the  utmost  magnificence,  according  to  the  military  spirit  of  the 
age,  rode  into  the  city  on  a  "  goodly  genet." 

Stowe  asserts  that,  "  in  the  year  1564,  Guilliam  Boonen,  a  Dutchman, 
became  the  queene's  coachman,  and  was  the  first  that  brought  the  use  of 
coaches  into  England."  The  first  engraved  representation  of  an  English 
coach  is  probably  to  be  found  in  the  fine  old  print  of  the  Palace  of  Nonsuch, 
by  Hoemagel,  which  bears  the  date  of  1582.  Queen  Elizabeth  is  there 
seated  in  a  low  heavy  machine,  open  at  the  sides,  with  a  canopy,  and  drawn 
by  two  horses  only.  Her  attendants  follow  in  a  carriage  of  different  form, 
with  an  oblong  canopy. 

Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  whilst  under  the  surveillance  of  the  Earl  of 
Shrewsbury,  appears  to  have  travelled  on  horseback  in  her  various  journeys, 
and  about  the  year  1640,  the  Countess  of  Cumberland,  in  a  tedious  transit 
from  London  to  Londesborough,  which  occupied  eleven  days,  either  from 
the  state  of  the  roads,  or  from  a  distaste  to  metropolitan  luxuries,  seems  to 
have  ridden  the  whole  way  on  horseback.  In  the  correspondence  of  Sir 
George  Radcliffe,  we  have  many  proofs  of  the  serious  inconvenience  that 


attended  travellers  in  the  early  part  of  the  17th  century ;  and  the  following 
is  a  curious  instance  of  the  simplicity  of  manners  prevalent  at  the  period. 
The  editor  observes — "at  this  time  (1609)  the  communication  between  the 
north  of  England  and  the  Universities  was  kept  up  by  carriers,  who  pur- 
sued their  tedious  but  uniform  route  with  whole  trains  of  pack-horses.  To 
their  care  was  consigned  not  only  the  packages,  but  frequently  the  persons 
of  young  scholars.  It  was  through  their  medium,  also,  that  epistolary  cor- 
respondence was  managed,  and,  as  they  always  visited  London,  a  letter  could 
scarcely  be  exchanged  between  Yorkshire  and  Oxford  in  less  time  than  a 
month."  From  a  passage  in  one  of  the  Paston  letters,  written  about  the 
close  of  the  loth  century,  we  find  that  few  opportunities  occurred  of  trans- 
mitting letters  from  London  to  Norwich,  except  through  the  agency  of 
persons  who  frequented  the  fairs  held  in  the  latter  city-  In  the  south  of 
England,  at  a  period  long  subsequent,  the  state  of  the  public  roads  appears 
to  have  been  equally  defective,  and  convenience  in  travelling  almost  wholly 
neglected.  In  Dec.  1703,  Charles,  King  of  Spain,  slept  at  Petworth,  on 
his  way  from  Portsmouth  to  Windsor,  and  Prince  George  of  Denmark  went 
to  meet  him  there.  "  We  set  out"  (as  one  of  the  attendants  relates)  "  at 
six  o'clock  in  the  morning  to  go  for  Petworth,  and  did  not  get  out  of  the 
coaches  (save  only  when  we  were  overturned  or  stuck  fast  in  the  mire)  till 
we  arrived  at  our  journey's  end.  'Twas  hard  service  for  the  Prince  to  sit 
fourteen  hours  in  the  coach  that  day  without  eating  anything,  and  passing 
through  the  worst  ways  that  I  ever  saw  in  my  life ;  we  were  thrown  but 
once  indeed,  in  going,  but  both  our  coach,  which  was  the  leading,  and  his 
Highness's  body  coach,  would  have  suffered  very  often,  if  the  nimble  boors 
of  Sussex  had  not  frequently  poised  it  or  supported  it  with  their  shoulders 
from  Godalmin  almost  to  Petworth ;  and  the  nearer  we  approached  to  the 
Duke's  house,  the  more  unaccessible  it  seemed  to  be.  The  last  nine  miles 
of  the  way  cost  us  six  hours  to  conquer  them,  and  indeed  we  had  never 
done  it,  if  our  good  master  had  not  several  times  lent  us  a  pair  of  horses 
out  of  his  own  coach,  whereby  we  were  enabled  to  trace  out  the  way  for 
him ;  they  made  us  believe  that  the  several  grounds  we  crost,  and  his 
Grace's  park,  would  alleviate  the  fatigue  ;  but  I  protest  1  could  hardly  per- 
ceive any  difference  between  them  and  the  common  roads." 

In  the  time  of  Charles,  surnamed  the  Proud,  Duke  of  Somerset,  who  died 
in  1 748,  the  roads  in  Sussex  were  in  so  bad  a  state,  that  in  order  to  arrive 
at  Guildford  from  Petworth,  persons  were  obliged  to  make  for  the  nearest 
point  of  the  great  road  leading  from  Portsmouth  to  London.  This  was  a 
work  of  so  much  difficulty  as  to  occupy  the  whole  day,  and  the  duke  had  a 
house  at  Guildford  which  was  regularly  occupied  as  a  resting-place  for  the 
night  by  any  part  of  his  family  travelling  to  London.  A  MS.  letter  from 
a  servant  of  the  Duke's,  dated  from  London,  and  addressed  to  another  at 
Petworth,  acquaints  the  latter  that  his  Grace  intended  to  go  from  London 
thither  on  a  certain  day,  and  directs  that  "  the  keepers  and  persons  who 
knew  the  holes  and  the  sloughs,  must  come  to  meet  his  Grace  with  lanthorns 
and  long  poles  to  help  him  on  his  way." 

The  precise  period  at  which  a  stage-coach  first  appeared  upon  the  road, 
it  is  difficult  to  determine  ;*  but  we  have  good  authority  for  assigning  the 
latter  part  of  the  reign  of  Charles  I.  as  the  probable  date  :  certain  it  is,  that 

*  Coaches  for  hire  were  first  established  in  1625,  and  amounted  at  that  time  to 
twenty.  They  stood  at  the  principal  inns,  and  were  called  "  Hackney  Coaches,"  from 
their  being  first  used  to  travel  betwixt  London  and  Hackney. 


although  in  1662  there  were  but  six  public  carriages,  the  number  had  so  in- 
creased in  a  few  years  after,  that  one  John  Crossell,  of  the  Charter  House, 
then  one  of  the  wise  men  of  the  East,  tried  his  best  to  write  down  the  new- 
system.  He  had,  it  is  conjectured,  the  countenance  of  the  country  squires, 
who  dreaded  that  the  facility  and  cheapness  of  travelling  would  too  often 
induce  their  dames  arid  daughters  to  visit  the  metropolis,  and  unfit  them  for 
the  homely  pleasures  of  the  Hall  and  the  Grange.  The  tradesmen,  too,  in 
and  near  London,  took  it  into  their  heads  to  consider  the  existence  of  such 
vehicles  a  public  evil,  and,  in  a  spirit  very  much  akin  to  that  which  has  ex- 
isted in  our  own  times,  petitioned  King  Charles  II.  and  the  Privy  Council  to 
put  an  end  to  the  "  stage  coach  nuisance ;"  but  the  result  of  this  petition 
against  so  important  a  public  convenience  was  as  unsuccessful  as  every  si- 
milar attempt  made  by  the  few  against  the  welfare  of  the  many  must  ever 
ultimately  be. 

The  improvement  in  coach  travelling  made  slow  progress  during  the  next 
half-century.  The  novels  of  Fielding  and  Smollet  afford  amusing  and 
graphic  details  of  the  stages  and  waggons  of  their  day ;  but  the  pencil  of 
Hogarth,  will  best  exhibit  the  strange  contrast  there  existed  between  the 
lumbering  vehicle  of  the  reign  of  George  I.,  and  the  dashing  equipage  that, 
in  the  time  of  his  fourth  successor,  accomplished  the  distance  between  Lon- 
don and  Brighton  within  five  hours.  In  1 742  the  Oxford  stage-coach  left  town 
at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  reached  Uxbridge  at  midday.  It  ar- 
rived at  High  Wycombe  at  five  in  the  evening,  where  it  rested  for  the  night, 
and  proceeded  at  the  same  rate  for  the  seat  of  learning  on  the  morrow. 
Here  then  were  ten  hours  consumed  each  day  in  passing  over  twenty- seven 
miles,  and  nearly  two  days  in  performing  what  is  now  accomplished  in  as 
many  hours.  Thirty  years  ago,  the  Holyhead  mail  left  London,  via  Oxford, 
at  eight  o'clock  at  night,  and  arrived  in  Shrewsbury  between  ten  and  eleven 
the  following  night,  being  twenty-seven  hours  to  one  hundred  and  sixty-two 
miles.  This  distance  was  done  without  the  least  difficulty,  in  1832,  in  six- 
teen hours  and  a  quarter.  At  that  period,  and  for  the  five  or  six  following 
years,  stage-coach  travelling  attained  in  this  country  most  astonishing  per- 
fection. Competition  had  reduced  charges  to  their  lowest  level,  and  brought 
elegance,  comfort,  and  expedition  to  their  highest.  The  great  Northern, 
the  Western,  the  Oxford,  and  the  Brighton  roads  were  covered  with  splen- 
did public  conveyances.  On  the  last,  no  less  than  twenty-live  ran  during 
the  summer.  The  fastest  were  the  Red  Rover,  the  Age,  and  the  Telegraph, 
all  horsed  in  the  most  admirable  manner,  and  driven  in  many  instances  by 
men  of  rank  and  education.  The  Edinburgh  mail  performed  the  distance, 
400  miles,  in  forty  hours ;  and  one  might  have  set  his  watch  by  it  at  any 
point  of  the  journey.  The  Exeter  day  coach,  the  Herald,  ran  over  her 
ground,  173  miles,  both  hilly  and  difficult,  in  twenty  hours;  the  Diligence 
from  Paris  to  Calais  requiring,  for  the  same  distance,  forty-eight  hours  in 
summer,  and  from  fifty  to  sixty  in  winter. 

Thus  it  was,  before  steam,  with  its  irresistible  power,  came  to  revolutionise 
the  travelling  world,  that  we  journeyed  through  the  picturesque  scenery  of 
our  own  beautiful  island,  enjoying  the  rural  comforts  of  its  road-side  hostel- 
ries,  admiring  its  ancient  cities,  and  priding  ourselves  on  the  industry  and 
bustle  of  its  manufacturing  towns.  How  spiritedly  does  Boz  recall  to  our 
recollection  the  departed  glory  of  the  turnpike  road.  "  The  coach  was  none 
of  your  steady- going,  yokel  coaches,  but  a  swaggering,  rakish,  disreputable, 
London  coach ;  up  all  night,  and  lying  by  all  day,  and  leading  a  devil  of  a 
life.  It  cared  no  more  for  Salisbury  than  if  it  had  been  a  hamlet.  It 


rattled  noisily  through  tfie  best  streets,  defied  the  cathedral,  took  the  worst 
corners  sharpest,  went  cutting  in  every  where,  making  every  thing  get  out 
of  its  way  ;  and  spun  along  the  open  country  road,  blowing  a  lively  defiance 
out  of  its  key  bugle,  as  its  last  glad  parting  legacy.  The  four  grays  skimmed 
along  :  the  bugle  was  in  as  high  spirits  as  the  grays  ;  the  coachman  chimed 
in  sometimes  with  his  voice,  the  wheels  hummed  cheerfully  in  unison  :  the 
brass  work  on  the  harness  was  an  orchestra  of  little  bells ;  and  thus,  as  they 
went  clinking,  jingling,  rattling,  smoothly  on,  the  whole  concern,  from  the 
buckles  of  the  leaders'  coupling-reins,  to  the  hand  of  the  hind  boot,  was 
one  great  instrument  of  music." 


r  When  the  mail  coaohes,  after  the  practice  and  improvement  of  a  few 
years,  had  gradually  attained  the  speed  of  ten  or  twelve  miles  an  hour,  great 
was  the  self-laudation  of  the  age  upon  its  own  nimbleness  as  compared  to 
the  slow  gouty-paced  travelling  of  its  ancestors.  It  was  a  subject  on  which 
the  eighteenth  century,  especially  when  drawing  near  its  end,  was  mightily 
facetious  and  grandiloquent,  always  wondering  what  its  dear  departed  gran- 
dames  would  say  if  they  could  only  peep  out  of  their  graves  and  see  the 
portentous  rate  at  which  it  was  flying  along  the  road,  even  without  the 
necessity  of  making  a  will  beforehand.  But  now,  how  are  the  tables 
turned  !  the  fable  of  the  seven  -leagued  boots,  used  by  Jack  in  the  fairy  tale, 
were  evidently  only  a  symbol,  at  once  marking  and  veiling  the  discovery  of 
the  steam-engine,  just  as  Friar  Bacon  hid  his  invention  of  gunpowder  under 
a  jumble  of  words,  being  equally  unwilling  to  lose  the  credit  of  his  know- 
ledge, or  to  impart  it  to  others.  We,  therefore,  beg  leave,  to  put  in  Jack's 
claim  at  once,  in  case  the  French  or  Americans,  those  universal  discoverers 
of  all  that  has  been  discovered,  should  attempt  to  defraud  the  giant-killing 
hero  of  the  glory  that  belongs  to  him. 

-  There  is  something  not  a  little  flattering  to  our  hopes  of  future  improve- 
ment, when  we  look  at  the  humble  origin  of  railway  travelling.  Who  that 
sees  one  of  the  present  splendid  trains  flying  along  at  the  rate  of  twenty  or 
thirty  miles  an  hour,  would  imagine  that  it  was  the  lineal  descendant  of  a 
coal-cart,  slowly  drawn  along  a  wooden  tram  by  a  single  horse  ?  And  yet 
such  is  the  bare  fact,  stript  of  all  exaggeration.  This  simple  contrivance 
was  adopted  about  two-hundred  years  ago,  to  facilitate  the  drawing  of  coals 
from  the  pits  to  the  places  of  shipment  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Newcastle- 
upon-Tyne ;  the  waggon,  which  went  upon  small  wheels,  contained  from 
two  to  three  tons  of  coal,  and  was  provided  with  a  flange,  or  projecting  rim, 
for  the  purpose  of  keeping  it  in  contact  with  the  rail.  From  time  to  time 
various  improvements  were  made  upon  this  humble  beginning-,  without, 
however,  deviating  from  the  general  principle ;  stone- supports  were  sub- 
stituted for  the  wooden  sleepers,  arid,  to  make  the  pull  easier  for  the  horse, 
in  steep  ascents,  or  in  the  case  of  sharp  curves,  thin  plates  of  malleable  iron 
were  nailed  on  the  surface  of  the  rails,  the  greater  smoothness  of  the  metal 
facilitating  the  draught.  Then  cast-iron  rods  were  introduced ;  but  this  ex- 
periment, seemingly  so  obvious,  was,  after  all,  the  result  of  accident,  as 
perhaps  may  be  said  of  many  other  discoveries  for  which  individuals  have 
obtained  all  the  fame  that  belongs  to  invention.  It  seems  that  in  1767  the 
price  of  iron  became  very  low,  and,  in  order  to  keep  the  furnaces  at  work, 
it  was  resolved  to  cast  bars,  to  be  laid  upon  the  wooden  rails  ;  this  would 
save  expense  in  their  repairs  ;  and  if  any  sudden  rise  in  the  value  of  iron 


should  take  place,  they  might  be  taken  up  again,  and,  in  the  language  of 
the  trade,  sold  as  pigs.  Excellent  as  this  plan  was,  when  compared  with 
what  had  been  done  before,  it  was  soon  found  to  have  its  disadvantages. 
The  form  of  the  rail  was  weak,  considering  the  quantity  of  metal  employed 
upon  it,  and  it  allowed  dirt  and  pebbles  to  be  lodged,  which  impeded  the 
free  motion  of  the  carriages,  and  even  made  them  liable  to  be  thrown  out  of 
the  track.  This,  after  some  minor  attempts  at  improvement,  led  to  the 
grand  invention  of  edge-rails,  which  was  followed  by  the  use  of  malleable 
rods  in  place  of  the  brittle  cast-iron,  an  ingenious  adaptation  of  rolling  ma- 
chinery having  enabled  the  engineers  to  give  them  the  requisite  form. 

Hitherto  we  have  seen  only  animal  power  used  to  impel  the  carriages  on 
a  railway ;  but  gravity  soon  came  to  be  employed  as  an  auxiliary,  and  in 
some  cases  as  the  sole  propelling  agent,  where  the  road  admitted  of  an  in- 
clined plane,  no  greater  power  being  required  to  take  a  loaded  carriage  down 
than  to  drag  it  up  again.  Where  the  too  great  steepness  of  the  ground 
rendered  this  plan  inadmissible,  recourse  was  had  to  what  was  called  a  self- 
acting  inclined  plane,  by  which  ingenious  contrivance  the  loaded  car  in  its 
descent  pulled  up  the  empty  waggons  by  means  of  a  rope  passed  round  a 
wheel  at  the  top  of  the  acclivity.  This  may  be  considered  as  the  first 
chapter  in  the  history  of  the  railway,  which,  though  a  simple  term,  we  shall 
presently  see  applied  to  that  compound  piece  of  engineering,  which  includes 
the  steam-engine,  the  carriages,  and  the  road  on  which  they  travel.  But 
we  have  not  yet  quite  done  with  the  railway  itself,  properly  so  called.  > 

When  experience  had  once  established  the  fact  that  iron  rails,  by  lessen- 
ing the  friction,  considerably  lightened  the  draught,  it  will  not  seem  strange 
that  a  projector  should  at  last  be  found  to  speculate  on  the  advantage  of 
substituting  railways  for  the  common  road.  This  was  Dr.  Anderson.  He 
had  no  idea  of  any  new  locomotive  power,  but  proposed  to  carry  a  line^of  rail  • 
ways  by  the  side  of  the  turnpike  roads,  along  which  waggons  might  pass 
drawn  by  horses.  Mr.  Edgeworth,  either  borrowing  the  Doctor's  idea,  or, 
as  he  said,  having  originated  it  himself,  went  a  step  farther,  and  in  "  Nichol- 
son's Journal  of  the  Arts"  for  March,  1802,  suggested  that  means  might 
be  found  to  enable  "  stage-coaches  to  go  six  miles  an  hour,  and  post  chaises 
and  gentlemen's  travelling- carriages  to  travel  with  eight,  both  with  one 
horse."  But  neither  of  the  projectors  seemed  to  have  considered  how  the 
rail  was  to  be  carried  on  by  the  side  of  the  turnpike-road  when  the  latter 
came  to  run  through  the  towns,  or  how  the  carriage  was  to  be  moved  when 
the  intervention  of  any  steep  made  farther  progress  impossible  ;  though  one 
horse  might  draw  a  waggon  upon  a  rail,  it  was  quite  evident  that  he  could 
not  drag  the  same  weight  up  a  hill  along  a  common  highway.  As,  how- 
ever, neither  of  these  plans  was  attempted  to  be  carried  into  effect,  the  diffi- 
culties in  question  never  came  to  be  tested. 

While  tram-ways  had  thus  been  exercising  the  ingenuity  of  projectors,  a 
power  was  growing  to  maturity,  which  was  destined  to  change  the  whole  face 
of  the  matter.  In  1802  it  occurred  to  Messrs.  Trevethick  and  Vivian  to  take 
out  a  patent  for  a  steam -carriage  on  the  public  road  :  and  though  it  does  not 
appear  to  have  been  ever  actually  employed,  it  led  to  the  experiment  being 
tried  on  a  colliery  railway  in  South  Wales.  It  succeeded  but  partially,  and  a 
fancy  having  now  seized  the  engineers  that  a  smooth-tired  wheel  would  not 
adhere  sufficiently  to  the  surface  of  the  rail  for  onward  motion,  all  their  in- 
genuity was  employed  in  removing  a  difficulty,  which  did  not  exist,  till 
after  the  lapse  of  a  few  years,  Mr.  George  Stephenson  was  fortunate  enough 
to  discover  that  his  brethren  had  been  fighting  with  a  shadow.  The  con- 


struction  of  the  first  of  the  modern,  or  travelling  class  of  railways,  between 
Darlington  and  Stockton,  on  which  one  horse  drew  with  ease  a  carriage 
•with  twenty- six  passengers,  at  the  rate  of  ten  miles  an  hour,  afforded  an 
opportunity  for  testing  his  invention.  Accordingly  it  was  tried,  and  though 
the  operation  was  remarkable,  its  success  was  not  sufficient  to  attract  the 
public  attention.  The  Titan  had  not  yet  attained  its  full  maturity  ;  and 
when,  some  time  afterwards,  the  monied  men  of  Manchester  and  Liverpool 
employed  Mr.  Stephenson  to  construct  a  railroad  for  them,  they  had  no 
idea,  as  it  should  seem,  of  any  other  motive  agent  than  stationary  engines, 
The  question,  however,  on  the  completion  of  the  railway,  came  to  be  agi- 
tated, when  these  practical  men  of  business,  wisely  preferring  facts  to  theory 
offered  a  reward  of  five  hundred  pounds  for  the  best  locomotive  carriage, 
capable  of  fulfilling  certain  conditions.  Their  demands  were  not  very  exor- 
bitant :  ten  miles  an  hour  was  the  maximum  of  speed  required,  and  it  is 
curious  enough  in  the  present  day  to  read  how  even  the  friends  of  the  loco- 
motive project  disclaimed  any  such  NONSENSE  as  the  idea  of  travelling  by 
steam  "  at  the  rate  of  ten,  sixteen,  eighteen,  twenty  miles  an  hour."  It 
must  be  acknowledged  that  these  new  Frankensteins  little  understood  the 
tremendous  nature  of  the  monster  they  were  calling  into  existence. 

At  length,  on  the  8th  of  October,  1829, — a  day  more  justly  to  be  cele- 
brated than  even  the  anniversaries  of  the  Nile  or  Waterloo, — the  trial  took 
place,  on  a  portion  of  the  Liverpool  and  Manchester  railway,  prepared  for 
the  purpose.  Greatly  to  the  surprise  of  those  who  a  short  time  before  had 
voted  Mr.  Stephenson  only  fit  for  Bedlam,  his  carriage  went  at  the  rate  of 
thirty  miles  an  hour  without  a  load,  and  at  twenty-four  miles  an  hour  when 
encumbered  with  three  times  its  own  weight,  which  was  thirteen  tons. 
Titan  had  now  triumphed  :  the  union  of  the  railway  and  the  locomotive 
engine  was  complete ;  but  still  the  idea  of  carrying  goods  was  uppermost 
in  men's  minds,  nor  was  it  till  the  invention  had  come  into  active  operation, 
that  its  great  value  as  a  means  of  conveying  passengers  was  at  all  under- 
stood. Then,  indeed,  the  truth  became  gradually  developed,  and  men  saw 
— not  a  few  with  fear  as  well  as  wonder — the  realization  of  those  day-dreams 
which  had  been  promulgated  by  Dr.  Darwin  so  early  as  1 793  : — 

"  Soon  shall  thy  arm,  unconquer'd  STEAM  !  afar 
Drag  the  slow  barge,  or  drive  the  rapid  car  ; 
Or  oil  wide-waving  wings  expanded  bear 
The  flying  chariot  through  the  fields  of  air.'* 

Botanic  Garden,  Canto  i.  253—289. 

Well  may  the  reader  of  these  lines  exclaim  with  Macbeth,  upon  the  half 
achievement  of  his  greatness — 

«*  Two  truths  are  told, 
As  happy  prologues  to  the  swelling  act 
Of  the  aerial  (imperial)  theme." 

At  all  events,  the  thirty  miles  an  hour  seemed  just  as  absurd  in  those 
days,  when  the  idea  was  first  started,  as  the  flying  chariot  can  possibly  do 
to  us ;  and,  though  the  latter  may  be  never  realised,  it  should  hardly  be  set 
down  in  the  chapter  of  utter  impossibilities. 

No  sooner  was  the  locomotive  steam-engine  found  to  answer  the  expec- 
tation of  the  inventors,  than  a  new  impetus  was  given  to  the  formation  of 
roads,  on  which  they  might  most  effectually  exert  their  agency.  Up  ascents 
of  any  great  steepness,  it  was  quite  clear,  they  would  not  go,  the  adhesion 
between  the  engine-wheels  and  the  rails  not  being  sufficient  to  ensure  the 


progressive  motion  of  the  machine.  Ways,  therefore,  had  to  be  cut  through 
hills  where  they  were  not  too  high,  throwing  up  the  earth  on  either  side,  or 
they  were  to  be  formed  by  tunnelling  where  the-  height  of  the  ground  made 
that  the  cheapest  and  most  efficacious  mode  of  working.  Sometimes,  as  in 
case  of  narrow  valleys,  it  was  found  better  to  carry  the  road  across  them 
upon  arches,  the  expense  being  less  than  the  more  ordinary  way  of  raising 
an  embankment. 

Latterly,  the  introduction  of  another  element  has  threatened  to  render 
useless  not  a  few  of  these  ingenious  contrivances.  It  has  been  proposed, 
and  the  experiment  is  now  actually  in  progress,  to  lay  down  hollow  pipes  or 
cylinders,  and  exhaust  the  air  in  them,  by  means  of  steam  engines  fixed  at 
certain  distances,  when  the  atmospheric  pressure,  it  is  expected,  will  be  suf- 
ficient to  propel  the  carriages  that  are  connected  by  means  of  a  rod  with  the 
several  tubes.  The  objectors  to  the  plan  cry  oat  upon  the  expense,  as  well 
as  the  great  difficulty  of  carrying  it  out  in  frosty  weather,  and  upon  an  ex- 
tended line,  for  they  argue  that  the  experiment  tried  in  the  neigbourhood  of 
Dublin  upon  a  scale  of  three  miles,  goes  for  nothing,  however  successful  it 
may  have  been.  They  refer  to  the  result  to  confirm  their  forebodings  ;  and 
certainly  there  is  no  denying  the  homely  old  proverb,  that  "  the  proof  of  the 
pudding  is  in  the  eating  ;"  still,  if  we  must  not  praise  till  we  have  tasted, 
we  have  just  as  little  right  to  blame ;  and  the  verdict  becomes  still  more 
suspicious  when,  as  in  this  case,  it  is  plain  the  opinion  is  given  from  other 
interests  and  predilections.  They  who  have  embarked  thousands  in  the 
present  railways  may  be  excused  if  they  are  a  little  incredulous  as  to  the 
feasibility  of  the  atmospheric  scheme.  For  ourselves,  we  have  in  our  time 
seen  so  many  things  turn  out  well  that  had  previously  been  declared  to  be 
impossible,  that  we  are  inclined  to  distrust  the  sceptics  even  more  than  the 
enthusiasts.  Dr.  Lardner,  we  can  well  remember,  proclaimed  the  utter 
impossibility  of  steam -carriages  ever  going  above  thirty  miles  an  hour,  just 
as,  a  few  years  before,  the  very  friends  of  Stephenson  had  ridiculed  the  idea 
of  a  speed  that  should  exceed  ten.  But  the  doctor  had  this  advantage  ;  he 
was  really  and  truly  a  scientific  man,  and  demonstrated  his  opinion  as  irre- 
fragably  as  any  proposition  of  Euclid,  when  lo  and  behold  the  scorner  was 
again  rebuked  by  fact.  In  the  midst  of  his  jeers,  the  machine  showed  it 
was  very  possible  to  double  the  utmost  degree  of  speed  he  had  allowed. 
"  Ibi  omnis  effusus  labor."  It  is  true  that  this  extreme  attempt  at  velocity 
has  not  everywhere  been  repeated,  but  its  being  done  is  quite  enough 
to  put  a  whole  battalion  of  LL.D.'s  to  the  rout ;  and  we  therefore  abide  by 
our  hopes  of  the  atmospheric  railway,  the  rather  from  not  having  any  shares 
in  the  locomotive  speculations.  If  we  had,  it  might  materially  influence  our 
judgment,  as  it  does  that  of  many  other  honest  folks,  great  admirers  of  the 
things  and  powers  that  be. 

We  have  now  briefly  traced  the  history  of  the  great  railway  experiment  in 
conjunction  with  the  steam-engine.  It  might  be  deemed  presumptuous  to 
attempt  calculating  on  what  are  likely  to  be  the  future  results  of  this  extra- 
ordinary combination ;  yet  it  is  hardly  possible  to  refrain  altogether  from 
some  pleasant  dreams  of  the  time  when  by  the  agency  of  steam,  both  on 
land  and  water,  the  prejudices  that  now  separate  the  various  families  of 
mankind  shall  be  worn  away,  and  their  various  habits  so  assimilated,  that 
they  may  all  form,  if  not  one  people,  at  least  a  confederation  of  nations.  That 
it  will  do  this  there  can  be  little  doubt,  but  we  think  it  is  destined  to  do 
much  more ;  if  machinery  goes  on  at  its  present  rapid  pace  for  another 
century,  superseding  much  of  the  necessity  of  human  labour,  it  is  quite  clear 



that  the  present  forms  of  society,  which  grew  out  of  other  circumstances, 
must  be  broken  up  and  remoulded,  though  the  wildest  imagination  may  fail 
to  picture  what  shape  it  will  finally  assume.  In  the  meanwhile  we  have 
only  to  comfort  ourselves  with  the  old  maxim,  that  "  every  thing  is  for  the 


Eau  volg  bain  alia  mia  bella, 
Ed  ell  eir  vuol  bain  a  mi, 

Na  nel  muond  nonais  co  ella 
Che  plaschar  m'poassa  pli. 

Nus  vivains  in  allegria, 

In  plaischarlu  uniun, 
Non  sentin  otra  fadia, 

Co  nel  temp  ch'  eau  1'abbandun. 

Ma  noass  cours  taunt  s'assumaglien, 
Ella  vuol  quistque  ch'  eau  vo  j 

E  pissers  ma  non  s'travaglien, 
Quelo  laschains  nus  a  sien  lo. 

D'el  sutur  eis  1'amatura 
Ed  eir  eau  unguota  main  ; 

El  trampelg  va  tust  suot  sura 
Cura  chia  nus  duos  sutain. 

Escha  sun  con  otr'  intraischia 
Us  olqs  m'ho  ladieu  adoss 

Ma  ella  no'ls  ditumar  laischia 
Ne  d'oters  vuol  ne  tuchiar  Toss. 

Escha  vein  la  generala 
Cuerr  in  prest  a  la  pigliar 

L'  accompang  na  be  mar  schiala 
Ma  in  stuva  poass  entrar. 

Edu  allr  ch'  ungiens  non  sainten 
Chiosas  dischains  da  taunt  dalef , 

Che  noass  cuors  quasi  s'alguainten 
Per  amur  e  per  affet. 

Sch'un  colomb  eis  ella  prisa 

Inuozainta  sch  un  agne 
Eis  miviglia,  eis  bendisa 

Eis  per  amur,  eis  pura  fe. 

Taunt  ardeinte  eis  sia  ogliseda 
E  taunt  tener  eis  sien  cour, 

Scha  Weinsberg  fass  assedia3da 
Ella  gniss  a  m'  portar  our. 

I  love  a  little  rustic  beauty, 

And  dearly  loves  this  beauty  me  ; 

In  the  whole  world  there  is  no  maiden 
Can  give  me  half  such  joy  as  she. 

We  live  always  in  sweet  communion, 
In  smiles  and  gladness  of  the  heart, 

We  know  no  hour  of  gloom  or  sorrow, 
But  that  sad  hour  which  bids  us  part. 

Our  minds  are  one,  our  hopes  and  wishes, 
What  please  me  gives  her  delight, 

We  have  no  little  tiffs  or  poutings  ; 

All  these  long  since  have  ta'en  their  flight, 

*  The  Romaunch  language  is  a  dialect  of  the  Tyrol. 


This  charming  girl  is  fond  of  dancing  ; 

And  /  love  dancing  for  her  sake, 
The  rest  behold  us  both  with  envy, 

When  in  the  sets  our  place  we  take. 

If  e'er  I  meet  some  other  partner, 

On  me  her  charming  eyes  still  shine, 
No  other  wins  her  glance  of  beauty, 

She'll  clasp  no  other  hand  than  mine. 

When  all  clap  hands,  and  dance  is  over, 

I  run  at  once  to  her  dear  side, 
Not  merely  down  the  steps  escorting,  ^ 

But  her  sweet  footsteps  homeward  guide. 

How  sweetly,  gently,  then  conversing, 

We  pass  the  moonlit  hours  away, 
Our  hearts  grow  one  in  fond  affection 

Love  warming  all  we  think  and  say. 

No  dove  is  softer  than  this  maiden, 

No  lamb  more  innocent,  I  ween, 
Playful  and  kind,  religious,  beauteous, 

No  lovelier  virgin  e'er  was  seen. 

Her  eyes  are  bright  and  full  of  courage, 

Her  heart  is  mine  so  faithfully, 
If  Weinsberg  were  in  mortal  danger 

She'd  run  to  save,  or  die  with  me. 





HER  Majesty's  Theatre  continues  the   centre  of  attraction  to  the  whole 
fashion  of   London  :    the  excitement  created  by  the  surpassing  merit  of 
Jenny  Lind  has  no  wise  abated,  and  every  night  of  her  performance  the 
house  is  invaded  by  a  multitude — by  a  perfect  mass  of  admirers.     Never  did 
singer  before  make  impression  like  this.     The  name,  and  the  fame  of  Jenny 
Lind   form  the  topic  of  conversation  universally,  unceasingly.     Each  new 
character  she  impersonates  is  another  triumph  :  each  repetition  adds  fresh 
laurels  to  that  crown  of  harmony  which  now  belongs  to  her  alone.     "  La 
Figlia  del  Reggimento,"  "  La  Sonnambula,"  "  Norma,"  are  repeated   again 
and  again  amid  enthusiasm  and  delight.     So  complete  is  the  excellence  of 
Jenny  Lind,  as  the  heroine  in  each  of  these  operas,  that  it  becomes  impos- 
sible to  give  the  preference  to  any  one  of  them.     "  Norma,"  considering  the 
difficulty  she  had  to  contend  with,  is  perhaps  the  greatest  wonder  she  has 
achieved.     The  first  night  of  her  acting  Norma  was  distinguished  by  a  state 
visit  from  the  Queen.    It  was  a  glorious  occasion  for  her  Majesty's  Theatre. 
The  aspect  of  the  house  was  magnificent.     The  Royal  box,  surmounted  by 
a  crown,  was  hung  with  crimson  velvet,  fringed  with  gold  ;  the  decorations 
extended  to  the  boxes  on  the  right  and  left,  which  held  the  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen of  the  suite.     Two  yeomen,  according  to  ancient  custom,  stood  on 
the  stage  in  front  of  the  regal  presence.     Her  Majesty  and  Prince  Albert, 
who  was  dressed  in  fall  uniform,  arrived  exactly  at  eight  o'clock,  which  was 
the  signal  for  the  commencement  of  the  national  anthem.     The  brilliant 
assemblage  in  the  boxes,  the  richness  of   the  dresses,  the  abundance  of 
jewels  worn  by  the  fair  visitors,  produced  a  superb  spectacle  when  the  whole 
company  rose.     Nor  was  the  enthusiasm  less  than  the  splendour.     Accla- 
mations were  uttered  on  all  sides,  and  handkerchiefs  were  waved  in  all  direc- 
tions at  the  end  of  the  anthem. 

The  peculiarity  in  Mademoiselle  Jenny  Lind's  Norma  is,  that  she  makes 
the  fiercer  features  of  the  character  less  prominent  than  her  predecessors, 
but  the  portions  that  illustrate  the  tender  affections  much  more  so.  Norma 
may  be  interpreted  two  ways.  The  jealous  rage  into  which  she  breaks  when 
she  discovers  that  Adalgisa  is  the  object  of  Pollio's  love,  the  frenzy  which 
tempts  her  to  kill  her  children,  may  be  so  brought  forward  that  the  feminine 
nature  is  almost  forgotten,  and  still  a  very  fine  impressive  performance  may 
be  the  result,  But  Norma,  in  spite  of  her  violence,  is  a  tender  mother  and 
an  affectionate  daughter ;  her  last  wish  before  death  is  to  be  reconciled  to  her 
father,  and  obtain  his  promise  to  protect  her  children.  These  are  the  pecu- 
liarities which  Jenny  Lind  seizes,  and  hence  the  great  delicacy  of  her  read- 
ing. She  gives  the  Celtic  priestess  a  deep  impress  of  mournfulness,  she 
makes  one  think  rather  of  the  pain  she  is  forced  to  endure  than  of  the  im- 
placable resentment  she  harbours.  Nothing  could  be  more  deeply  sorrowful 
than  the  "  Qua!  cor  tradisti"  in  tfas  finale, — it  is  the  perfection  of  intense  re- 
proach. The  by-play  throughout  is  most  refined, — a  by-play  all  illustrative  of 
the  softer  treatment  of  the  character. 

It  is  of  course  unnecessary  to  descant  on  the  singing  of  Jenny  I.-ind  in 
Norma,  for  that  is  perfection  past  description.  Her  voice  in''  Casta  Diva" 
"  Deh  !  con  te"  "  Si  fino"  falls  upon  enraptured  ears, 


like  the  sweet  south 

That  breathes  upon  a  bank  of  violets 
Stealing  and  giving  odour. 

With  regard  to  the  "  Figlia  del  Reggimento,"  the  graceful  walk 
so  military,  and  withal  so  feminine — the  completely  natural  air,  make  Jenny 
Lind's  "  Maria  "  one  of  the  most  charming  exhibitions  that  can  be  conceived. 

The  Swedish  airs  which  Mademoiselle  Lind  first  sung  in  private  at  Bucking- 
ham Palace,  and  then  introduced  in  public,  exhibit  her  in  a  new  light.  The  melo- 
dies themselves  are  of  a  singular  character,  constantly  awakening  the 
reminiscence  of  other  national  airs,  and  as  constantly  causing  the  re- 
miniscence to  fade  away.  Now  they  seem  to  touch  the  old  English  ballad, 
and  now  to  border  on  Swiss  peculiarism.  Simplicity  is  not  their  character- 
istic ;  they  are  marked  by  difficult  intervals — the  key  is  suddenly  changed, 
and  they  have  less  of  the  tune  form  than  most  compositions  of  the  popular 
class.  The  melancholy  and  the  joyous  strangely  intermix,  the  pathetic  and 
the  coquetish  balance  each  other,  so  that  one  scarcely  knows  which  pre- 
dominates. But  the  charm  is  not  so  much  in  the  airs  as  in  Mademoiselle 
Jenny  Lind's  manner  of  singing  them.  This  is  distinguished  by  exquisite 
naivete.  She  Sports  heedlessly  with  the  melody,  and  thus  gives  it  the  effect 
of  playful  spontaneousness.  A  sort  of  winning  light-heartedness  continually 
displays  itself,  and  produces  the  effect  of  true  exhiliration. 

The  Ballet  department  of  her  Majesty's  Theatre  is  now  eminently  filled  : 
there  are  Carlotta  Grisi,  and  Rosati,  and  Cerito,  the  three  appearing  night  after 
night.  At  any  other  time  their  combined  attraction  would  have  been  all  in 
all  sufficient,  but  now,  though  they  are  as  perfect  as  ever  ;  though  in  opera,  too 
the  glorious  tones  of  Lablache  reverberate  in  their  full  pomp,  and  the  sweet 
notes  of  Gardoni  speak  in  exquisite  melody,  yet  thought  or  talk  is  but  of 
Jenny  Lind — of  Jenny  Lind  alone,  the  unrivalled,  the  unapproachable.  That 
worthy  and  quaint  old  poet  Geoffrey  Chaucer  tells  us,  in  a  ballad,  how  he 
forsook  his  bed  to  listen  to  the  nightingale,  and  how  enraptured  he  was  : 

I  heard  in  the  next  bush  beside 

A  nightingale  so  lustily  sing, 

That  with  her  clere  voice  she  made  ring 

Through  all  the  greene  wood  wide. 

All  London  seems  now  to  follow  the  bard's  example.  Repose  is  forgotten 
the  sole  consideration  is  the  ecstasy  produced  by  the  clere  voice  of  the 
nightingale  of  London. 


Monsieur  Bouffe',  one  of  the  greatest  actors  of  France  is  now  performing 
at  the  St.  James's  Theatre.  His  Gamin  de  Paris,  his  Michel  Perrin,  and  his 
miser  in  "  La  Fille  de  1'Avare  "  display  talent  of  the  very  highest  order. 
Wit  and  pathos,  recklessness  and  hard-heartedness — virtue  and  vice  are 
alike  vividly,  powerfully  true,  with  this  admirable  comedian.  There  is  also 
here  a  Mademoiselle  Duverger,  an  actress  of  the  lively  school,  who  might 
be  equally  put  forward  as  a  model  of  excellence  in  her  pleasant,  and  fasci- 
nating^ department  of  the  histrionic  art.  The  greatest  value  of  the  St. 
James's  Theatre  is  that  it  produces  in  rapid  and  rich  succession,  upon  one 
stage,  actors  and  actresses  who,  even  in  Paris,  can  be  only  seen  by  going  to 
a  dozen  different  theatres.  We  have  here  the  very  cream  of  the  drama  of 
France.  An  announcement  states  that  the  season  is  to  conclude  with  the 
appearance  of  Rachel— that  brightest  of  all  Gallia's  constellations. 

VOL.    IV.    NO.    XV. 



CAROLINE,  CONSORT  OF  GEORGE  II. ;  including  letters  from  the  most 
celebrated  persons  of  her  time :  now  first  published  from  the  originals, 
by  MRS.  THOMPSON,  author  of  "  The  Life  of  the  Duchess  of  Marlborough," 
"  Memoirs  of  the  Court  of  Henry  VIII."  In  two  volumes.  Henry  Col- 
burn,  Great  Marlborough  Street,  1847. 

THIS  is  a  very  valuable  addition  to  the  able  historical  memoirs  already 
published  by  Mrs.  Thompson.  Among  the  past  Queens  consort  or  regnant 
of  England,  few  rank  higher  than  Caroline  wife  of  George  II.  To  her  wise 
influence,  and  active  administration,  the  house  of  Hanover  owes  not  a  little 
its  permanent  establishment  on  the  throne  of  this  country  :  her  sagacity 
protected  the  new  dynasty  from  its  enemies,  and  her  amiability  first  made 
it  agreeable  to  the  people.  Indeed,  from  the  accession  of  her  well  disposed  but 
lethargic  husband,  to  the  period  of  her  own  death,  the  government  was  more 
or  less  continually  confided  to  her  controul.  The  history  of  such  a  princess 
must  therefore  prove  of  more  than  common  interest,  and  especially  so,  when 
given  in  the  memoirs  of  a  person  so  closely  attached  to  her  person  and  for- 
tunes as  her  favourite,  the  Viscountess  Sundon  is  known  to  have  been. 
But  we  had  better  refer  to  Mrs.  Thompson's  own  account  of  this  book  in 
her  preface  :  it  runs  as  follows  : 

"The  materials  of  this  work  are  supplied,  chiefly,  from  a  Collection  of  Autograph 
Letters  addressed  to  CHARLOTTE  CLAYTON,  VISCOUNTESS  SUNDON.  This 
Lady  was  attached  to  the  Court  of  our  first  Hanoverian  Sovereign,  being  Lady  of 
the  Bedchamber,  and  eventually  Mistress  of  the  Robes,  to  Caroline,  Princess  of 
Wales,  afterwards  Queen-Consort  of  George  the  Second.  Lady  Sundon,  long 
before  her  husband's  elevation  to  the  Peerage,  and  whilst  she  retained  the  appella- 
tion by  which  she  is  mentioned  in  much  of  the  correspondence  of  the  day — that  of 
Mrs.  Clayton — attained  such  a  degree  of  influence  over -her  Royal  Mistress,  as 
perhaps  had  hardly  ever  been  enjoyed  by  any  female  favourite  since  the  days  of 
Sarah,  Duchess  of  Marlborough.  It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  the  Letters 
given  in  the  present  Work  should  contain  applications  "from  individuals  of  every 
rank  and  profession.  Nor  where  the  higher  orders  among  her  own  sex  backward 
in  soliciting  her  aid,  or  in  courting — but  seldom  without  a  selfish  motive — her 

Mrs.  Thompson  thus  describes  Queen  Caroline. 

"  From  her  earliest  connexion  with  the  Hanoverian  family,  Caroline  had  been 
resolved  to  govern  the  Prince  to  whom  she  was  affianced,  in  an  ill  assorted  union, 
with  a  gentle  but  firm  hand.  Independently  of  her  powerful  understanding,  her 
personal  advantages  tended  to  ensure  this  object.  She  was,  at  the  time  of  her 
marriage,  extremely^ handsome ;  and,  even  after  the  ravages  of  the  small-pox, 
which  occurred  shortly  afterwards,  retained  a  countenance  replete  with  animation, 
exhibiting,  at  will,  either  mildness  or  majesty  ;  *  and  her  penetrating  eyes,'  ob- 
serves one  who  had  often  gazed  upon  her,*  '  expressed  whatever  she  had  a  mind 
they  should.'  Her  voice  was  melodious,  her  hands  were  beautifully  formed,  and 
her  actions  were  graceful. 

*  Horace  Walpole. 



(t  These  charms  were  continually  acknowledged,  and  extolled,  by  the  gross  and 
illiterate  monarch,  who  could  admire  the  beauty  of  her  form,  and  delight  in  her 
personal  advantage*,  but  who  was  wholly  incapable  of  appreciating  her  love  of 
letters,  which  he  discouraged,  or  her  generosity,  which  he  opposed,  while  forcing 
her  to  bear  the  odium  of  his  avarice. 

"  The  extreme  devotion  of  the  Queen  to  her  consort  has  been  by  some  ascribed 
to  ambition, — to  the  love  of  ascendancy  ;  others,  more  amiable,  have  ventured  to 
couple  it  with  aifection.  If  we  may  give  entire  credit  to  the  religious  sentiments 
of  Caroline,  we  may  set  it  down  as  the  effect  of  a  strong  sense  of  duty ;  and,  in- 
deed, it  is  scarcely  possible  that  any  less  cogent  motive  could  have  actuated  a 
woman,  during  the  course  of  an  union  of  thirty  years,  to  an  incessant  sacrifice  of 
self-will,  to  the  most  differential  respect,  the  most  entire  acquiescence,  than  a  con- 
viction that  such  sacrifices  were  required  by  her  nuptial  bonds.  '  Her  children,' 
she  declared,  '  were  not  as  a  grain  of  sand  to  her,  compared  with  him  ;'  and  she 
marked  these  extreme  notions  of  duty  on  her  death-bed." 

The  opera  in  those  days,  as  at  the  present  time,  seems  to  have  engaged  the 
attention  of  royalty.  Then,  as  now,  the  cabals  of  the  musical  world  were 
apt  to  move  the  whole  orb  of  fashion. 

"  The  following  letter/'  says  Mrs.  Thompson, "  contains  a  curious  illustration  of 
the  times,  in  its  reference  to  the  commotion  which  occurred  at  the  Italian  Opera, 
when  the  Princess  Amelia  happened  to  be  present.  The  object  of  public  dis- 
approbation was  Signora  Cuzzoni ;  but  that  favourite  singer  having  a  powerful 
body  of  friends  in  the  house,  a  struggle  took  place  between  the  two  parties, 
which  caused  the  greater  part  of  the  performance  to  be  in  '  inexplicable  dumb 
show/  This  letter  affords  a  curious  instance  of  the  participation  of  the  most 
illustrious  personages  of  the  realm  in  the  cabals  of  the  Italian  Opera,  which  had 
not  then  been  introduced  more  than  half  a  century  into  England. 



"  I  hope  you  will  forgive  the  trouble  I  am  going  to  give  you,  having  al- 
ways found  you  on  every  occasion  most  obliging.  What  I  have  to  desire  is,  that 
if  you  find  a  convenient  opportunity,  I  wish  you  would  be  so  good  as  to  tell  her 
Royal  Highness,  that  every  one  who  wishes  well  to  Cuzzoni  is  in  the  utmost  con- 
cern for  what  happened  last  Tuesday  at  the  Opera,  in  the  Princess  Amelia's  pre- 
sence ;  but  to  show  their  innocence  of  the  disrespect  which  was  shown  to  her 
Highness,  I  beg  you  will  do  them  the  justice  to  say,  that  the  Cuzzoni  had  been 
publicly  told,  to  complete  her  disgrace,  she  was  to  be  hissed  off  the  stage  on 
Tuesday  ;  she  was  in  such  concern  at  this,  that  she  had  a  great  mind  not  to  sing, 
but  I,  without  knowing  anything  that  the  Princess  Amelia  would  honour  the 
Opera  with  her  presence,  positively  ordered  her  not  to  quit  the  stage,  but  let  them 
do  what  they  would :  though  not  heard,  to  sing  on,  and  not  to  go  off  till  it  was 
proper ;  and  she  owns  now  that  if  she  had  not  had  that  order  she  would  have 
quitted  the  stage  when  they  cat- called  her  to  such  a  degree  in  one  song,  that  she 
was  not  heard  one  note,  which  provoked  the  people  that  like  her  so  much,  that 
they  were  not  able  to  get  the  better  of  their  resentment,  but  would  not  suffer  the 
Faustina  to  speak  afterwards.  I  hope  her  Royal  Highness  would  not  disapprove 
of  any  one  preventing  the  Cuzzoni' s  being  hissed  off  the  stage  ;  but  I  am  in  great 
concern  they  did  not  suffer  anything  to  have  happened  to  her,  rather  than  to  have 
failed  in  the  high  respect  every  one  ought  to  pay  to  a  Princess  of  her  Royal 
Highness's  family  ;  but  as  they  were  not  the  aggressors,  I  hope  that  may  in  some 
measure  excuse  them. 

"  Another  thing  I  beg  you  would  say  is,  that  I,  having  happened  to  say  that 
the  Directors  would  have  a  message  from  the  King,  and  that  her  Royal  Highness 
had  told  me  that  his  Majesty  had  said  to  her,  that  if  they  dismissed  Cuzzoni  they 
should  not  have  the  honour  of  his  presence,  or  what  he  was  pleased  to  allow  them 
some  of  the  Directors  have  thought  fit  to  say  that  they  neither  should  have  a 


message  from  the  King,  and  that  he  did  not  say  what  her  Royal  Highness  did 
me  the  honour  to  tell  me  he  did.  I  most  humbly  ask  her  Royal  Highness' s  par- 
don for  desiring  the  Duke  of  Rutland  (who  is  one  of  the  chief  amongst  them  for 
Cuzzoni)  to  do  himself  the  honour  to  speak  of  it  to  her  Royal  Highness,  and  hear 
what  she  would  be  so  gracious  to  tell  him.  They  have  had  also  a  message  from 
the  King,  in  a  letter  from  Mr.  Fabrice,  which  they  have  the  insolence  to  dispute, 
except  the  Duke  of  Rutland,  Lord  Albemarle,  and  Sir  Thomas  Pendergrass.  Lady 
Walsingham  having  desired  me  to  let  her  know  how  this  affair  went,  I  have  writ- 
ten to  her  this  morning,  and,  at  the  Duke  of  Rutland's  desire,  have  sent  an 
account  of  what  was  done  at  the  Board,  for  her  to  give  his  Majesty. 

As  I  have  interested  myself  for  this  poor  woman,  so  I  will  not  leave  anything 
undone  that  may  justify  her ;  and  if  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  state  this  affair 
to  her  Royal  Highness,  whom  I  hope  will  still  continue  her  most  gracious  protec- 
tion to  her,  I  shall  be  most  extremely  obliged  to  you,  that  am, 

Dear  Madam, 

With  the  most  sincere  friendship, 
Your  most  affectionate 

humble  servant, 


These  memoirs  of  Lady  Sundon  contain  indeed  a  perfect  fund  of  historical 



Adams,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  Herbert  Geo.  Adams, 

of  a  dau.  29th  May. 
Alexander,  Mrs.  Robert,  of  a  dau.  at  Carlton  House 

Terrace,  llth  June. 
Allen,  Mrs.  wife  of  George  Baugh  Allen,  Esq.  of  a 

son,  9th  June. 
Anderson,  Mrs.  Major,  of  a  son,  at  Clifton,  27th 

Arkwright,  Mrs.  wife  of  Alfred  Arkwright,  Esq.  of  a 

dau.  at  Worksworth,  co.  Derby,  6th  June. 
Bacon,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  John  Bacon,  of  a  son, 

at  Lambourne,  Woodlands,  Berks,  31st  May. 
Baggallay,  Mrs.  John,  of  a  son,  at  Tavistock  Square, 

llih  June. 

Baillie,  Hon.  Mrs.  Henry,  of  a  dau.  1st  June. 
Barlow,  Mrs.  W.  H.  of  a  son,  at  Derby,  2Qth  May. 
Barton,  Mrs.  Daniel,  of  a  son,  at  Edinburgh,  29th 

Bell,  Mrs.  Sydney  Smith,  of  a  son,  at  Regent's  Park 

Terrace,    28th  May. 

Bennett,  Mrs.  Wm.  Sterndale,  of  a  son,  llth  June. 
Benthall,  Mrs.  John,  of  a  dau.  at  Furzwell  House, 

Torquay,  26th  May. 
Berkeley,  Mrs.  Comyns  Rowland,  of  a  son,  30th 

Bevir,  Mrs.  E.  J.,  of  a  son,  at  Woburn  Square,  2nd 

Biggs,  Mrs.  wife   of  John  Biggs,  Esq.  H.  M.  8th 

Kegt.  of  a  dau.  at  Poona,  21st  April. 
Braithwaite,  Mrs.  Robt.  of   a  dau.  at  Kendal,  6th 

Bright,  Mrs.  wife  of  James  Bright,  Esq.  M.  D.  of  a 

dau.  27th  May. 
Browell,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  James  Browell,  M.  A. 

of  a  dau.  16th  June. 
Brown,  Mrs.  wife  of  R.  Brown,  Esq.  M,D.  of  a  dau. 

at  Kevernalls,  near  Lymington,  28th  May. 
Bryant,  Mrs.  George,  at  Park-street,  Islington,  of 

a  son,  1st  June. 
Buckle,  Mrs.widow  of  Capt.  Edmund  Buckle,  Bengal 

Art.  of  a  son,  3rd  June. 
Calland,  Mrs.  John  Forbes,  of  a  dau.  at  Paris,  28th 


Charteris,  Lady  Anne,  of  a  son,  2nd  June. 
Charters,   Mrs.  Major,    of  a  dau.   at  Padua,  18th 

Clarke,  Mrs.  W.  Gray,   of  a  dau.  at  Tours,  10th 

Cliff,  Mrs.  William,  of  a  dau.  at  Brompton,  16th 

Cosser,  Mrs.wife  of  the  Rev.W.  M.  Cosser,  of  a  son, 

at  Tichfield.  30th  May. 
Crosse,  Mrs.  Edward  Wilson,  of  a  dau.  at  Torring- 

ton  Square,  2nd  June. 
Crosthwaite,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  J.  C.   Crosth- 

waite,  of  a  dau.  3rd  June. 
De  la  Motte,  Mrs.  wife  of  Edward  De  la  Motte,  of 

the  Royal   Military    College,    Sandhurst,   of  a 

dau.  SlstJMay. 
Douglas,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  Alexander  Douglas, 

of  a  son,  at  Harley-street,  12th  June. 
Downe,  the  Viscountess,  of  a  son,  15th  June. 
Drew,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  G.  S.  Drew,  Incum- 
bent of  old  St.  Pancras,  of  a  son,  13th  June. 

Du  Ruisson,   Mrs.  James,  of  Wandsworth,  of  a 

dau.  1st  June. 
Ellis,    Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  Robt.  Stephenson 

Ellis,  M.  A.  of  a  dau.  at  Copenhagan,  30th  May. 
Esdaile,  Mrs.  Clement,  of  a  dau.  29th  May. 
Farmer,  Mrs.  W.  F.  G.  of  a  son,  at  Nonsuch  Park, 

Surrey,  26th  May. 
Fennell,  Mrs.  Edwin,  of  a  dau.  at  Wimbledon,  25th 

Frost,  Mrs.  wife  of  Andrew  Hollingworth  Frost, 

Esq.  M.  A.  of  a  son,  8th  June. 
Giberne,  Mrs.  George,  of  a  dau.  at  Epsom,  7th  June. 
Gipps,  Mrs.  H.  P.  of  a  son,  at  Montague  Place, 

4th  June. 
Goddard.  Mrs.  George  H.  of  a  dau.  at  John-street, 

4th  June. 
Godden,  Mrs.  of  Watford,  Herts,  of  a  dau.  21st 

Godley,  Mrs.  John  Robert,  of  a  son,  at  Portman 

Square,  17th  June. 
Graham,  Mrs.  Wm.  of  a  dau.  at  Castle  Milk,  co. 

Lanark,  6th  June. 

Granet,  Mrs.  Captain,  of  a  son,  26th  May. 
Gruner,  Mrs.  Lewis,  of  a  dau.  at  Fitzroy  Square, 

31st  May. 

Heathcote,  Mrs.  Francis,  of  a  dau.  29th  May. 
Herring,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  W.  Harvey  Herring, 

of  a  son,  5th  June. 
Inchbald,  Mrs.  Robert,  of  a  dau.  at  WestWickham, 

Kent,  12th  June. 
Jackson,  Mrs.  J.  D.  of  a  son,  at  Saffron  Waldron, 

5th  June. 

Jackson,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  John  Jackson,  Rec- 
tor of  St.  James',  of  a  dau.  29th  May. 
Kerry,  Countess  of,  of  a  dau.  27th  May. 
Kinglake,  Mrs.  Ssrjeant,  of  a  dau.  at  Eaton  Square, 

15th  June. 
Kinlock,  Mrs.  wife  of  J.  J.  Kinlock,  of  Kair,  of  a 

dau.  Srd^June. 
Laurie,  Mrs.  John,  of  a  son.  at  Hyde  Park-phsce, 

31st  May. 

Lyttleton,  Lady,  of  a  son,  12th  June. 
Mac  Leod,  wifs  of  Capt.  Norman  Mac  Leod,  Ben- 

gal  Engineers,  of  a  dau.  at  South  Crescent,  Bed- 
Majoribanks,   Mrs.   Edward,  jun.  of  a  son,  13th 

Marston,  Mrs.   Thomas,    of  a   son,   at    Ampthill 

Square,  2nd  June. 
Martin,  Mrs.  Wm.  of  Hyde  Park  Square,  of  a  son, 

29th  May. 

Masterman,  Mrs.  Henry,  of  a  son,  26th  May. 
Oakes,   Mrs.    Col.    R.  M.   of  a   son,  at  Dineham 

Lodge,  Norfolk,  6th  June. 
Oliver,  Mrs.  wife  of  J.    R.  Oliver,  Esq.  M.D.  of  a 

son,  at  Kennington,  10th  June. 
Peake,  Mrs.  Robert  William,  of  Lleweny  House, 

New  Finchley  Road,  of  a  dau.  28th  May. 
Pelly,   Mrs.    Albert,   of  a  son,   at  Walthamstow, 

29th  May. 
Phillips,  Mrs.  Robert,  of  a  dau.  at  Gloucester  Villa, 

Regent's  Park,  10th  June. 
Place,  Mrs.  F.  W.  of  a  dau.  at  Delhi,  East  Indies, 

19th  April. 



\vlinson,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  George  rtawlin- 
i,  of  a  dau.  at  Merton,  7th  June. 

Kind,   Mrs.   wife  of  Malcolm   M'Neill  Rind,  Esq.  Taylor,  Mrs.  Wilbraham,  of  a  son,  27th  May. 

Taylor.  Mrs.  James,  of  Mechlenburgh  Square,  of  a 
son,  10th  June, 

Ben.  Med.  Est.  of  a  son,  at  Lucknow,28th  March 
Rivers,  Lndy,  of  a  dau.  24th  May. 
Robertson,  Mrs.    of  a  son,  at   Albermarle-street, 

28th  May. 
Rowland,  Mrs.  wife  of  Capt.  J.  H.  Rowland,  J.  N, 

of  a  dau.  2nd  June. 
Boyle,  Mrs.  wife  of  Dr.|Royle,  Professor  King's  Col- 

Jege,  of  a  son,  8th  June. 

Salmond,  Mrs.  James,  of  a  son,  atWaterfoot,  Cum- 
berland, 1  6th  June. 
Saunders,  Mrs.  John,  of  a  son,  at  Southend,  2nd 

Sharpe,  Mrs.  John,  of  a  dau.  at  Walthara  Cross 

10th  June. 
Sheppard,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  Wm.  Sheppard,  o 

a  dau.  at  Florena  Court,  co.  Fernian     28th  May 
Skinner,  Mrs.  wife  of  Allan  Maclain  Skinner,  Esq. 

Barister-at-Law,  of  a  dau.  at  Brighton,  7th  June. 
Scares,  Mrs.  M.  J.  of  a  dau.  at  Fitzroy-Squre,  3rd 

Spicer,  Mrs.  John  W.  Gooch,  of  a  dau.  at  Coth- 

more,  26th  May. 
Stillwell,   Mrs.    Arthur,  of  a  son,  at  Hillingdon, 

6th  June. 
Sutherland,  Mrs.  Alexander  John,  of  a  son,  5th 

Swindell,  Mrs.  J.  G.  of  a  dau,  at  Kilburn  Priory, 
„.  4th  June. 

feake,  Mrs.  Robt.  William,  of  Llewy  House,  New 

Finchley  Road,  of  a  dau.  28th  May. 
Tickell.  Mrs.  Major-Gen,  of  a  dau.  24th  May. 
Titcomb,  Mrs.  wife  of  the   Rev.  J.  T.  Titcomb,  of 

a  dau.  at  Cambridge,  10th  June. 
Todd,  Mrs.  Joseph,  of  a  dau.  at  Mousley  Park, 

Surrey,  2nd  June. 

Tuffnell,  Mrs.  E.  Carleton,  of  a  son,  13th  June. 
Turner,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  Sydney  Turner,  of  a 

dau.  1st  June. 
Turner,  Mrs.  Marshall,  of  a  son,  at  Torrington  Sq. 

29th  May. 
Tyndall,  Mrs.  T.  O.  of  a  dau.  at  the  Fort,  Bristol, 

13th  June. 
Unwin,  Mrs.  wife  of  W.  Unwin,  Esq.  of  a  son,  at 

Putney,  6th  June. 
Vardy,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  Charles  Fox  Vardy, 

M.  A.  of  a  dau.  6th  June. 

West,  Mrs.  William  Thornton,  of  a  dau.  at  Clap- 
ham  Park,  2;th  May. 
Willoughby,  Mrs.  Charles,  of  a  son,  at  Wollaton 

Rectory,  13th  June. 
Winkworth,  Mrs.  Stephen,  of  a  dau.  at  Purbrook 

Lodge,  Hants,  25th  May. 
Winter,  Mrs.  wife  of  Charles  Winter,  Esq.  late  Capt. 

66th  Regiment,  of  a  dau.  15th  June. 
Wood,  Lady  Mary,  of  a  dau.  27th  May. 
Woodhouse,  Mrs.  Henry  R.  of  a  son,  16th  June. 

Aspinall,  Henry  [Kelsall,  youngest  son  of  the  late 

;,  John  Aspinall,  Esq.,  of  Birkenhead,  to  Margaret, 
only  daughter  of  John  Haselden,  Esq.,  of  Rock 
Ferry,  8th  June. 

Athill,  the  Rev.  William,  of  Brandistone-hall, 
county  of  Norfolk,  and  Sub- Dean  of  the 
Collegiate  Church  of  Middleham,  in  York- 
shire, to  Caroline  Amelia  Halsted,  only  daughter 
of  the  late  Captain  John  Halsted,  R.N.,  8th 

Baird,  Charles  J.  Esq.,  late  of  Shptts,  to  Elizabeth, 
youngest  daughter  of  John  Haliday,  Esq.,  of  St. 
Petersburgh,  llth  May. 

Banks,  William ,  Esq.,  of  London,  to  Miss  Mar- 
garet Banks,  of  Snelston,  15th  June. 

Blackeney,  John,  Esq.,  of  Bedford-row,  to  Sarah, 
eldest  daughter  of  Henry  Lamb,  Esq.  of  Havrley, 
Kent,  10th  June. 

Blackburn,  Robert  B.,  Esq.,  son  of  the  late  John 
Blackburn,  Esq.,  of  Killearn,  in  the  county  of 
Stirling,  to  Francis  Georgina,  youngest  daughter 
of  the  late  Rev.  Edward  Dewing,  rector  of  Rain- 
ham,  in  Norfolk,  10th  June. 

Bladon,  Edward,  Esq.,  of  Warwick-square,  Ken- 
sington, to  Louisa,  eldest  daughter  of  Charles 
Whiting,  Esq.,  of  Grove-road,  Brixton,  10th 

Bliss,  Frederick,  Esq.,  of  Pensile-house,  Glouces- 
tershire, youngest  son  of  the  late  Thomas  Bliss, 
Esq.,  of  Herne-hill,  Surrey,  to  Caroline,  third 
daughter  of  the  late  Samuel  Charles  Turner, 
Esq.,  of  Child  Okeford,  in  the  county  of  Dorset, 
10th  June. 

Bloxam.  Robert  W  lliam,  Esq.,  of  Ryde,  to  Henri- 
etta  Louisa,  only  child  of  the  late  Henry  Lock, 
Esq.,  of  the  Hon.  E.I.C.S.,  and  granddaughter 
of  the  late  Vice-Admiral  Lock,  of  Haylands,  Isle 
of  Wight,  10th  June. 

Ho/uior,  the  Rev.    R.  M.,  vicar  of  Ruabon,   Den- 

bighshire, to  Ellen,  daughter  of  the  l«ite  John 
Wood,  Esq.,  of  Worthing,  8th  June. 

Boyrenson,  Thomas  Adolphus,  Esq.,  M.D.,  of  the 
Hon.  Company's  Bombay  Army,  to  Augusta 
Marianne,  only  daughter  of  the  late  Francis 
Swinfen,  Esq.,  of  Lapley,  Stafford,  5th  June. 

Bright,  John,  Esq.,  of  Rochdale,  M.P.,  to 
Margaret  Elizabeth,  eldest  daughter  of  the  late 
William  Leatham,  Esq.,  banker,  Wakefield,  10th 

Broughton,  Robert  John  Porcher,  Esq.,  M.A., 
eldest  son  of  Robert  Edwards  Broughton,  Esq., 
of  Melcombe-place,  to  Louisa  Diana,  eldest 
daughter  of  Charles  Heaton  Ellis,  Esq.,  of 
Harley-street  and  Wyddial-hall,  Herts,  3rd  June. 

Browne,  Henry  J.,  Esq.,  of  Wilmington-square, 
London,  surgeon,  (late  of  Hampton,  in  the 
county  of  Worcester),  to  Elizabeth,  younger 
daughter  of  the  late  James  Coucher,  Esq.,  of 
Alfrick,  in  the  same  county,  25th  May. 

Burgess,  Arthur  James,  eldest  son  of  John  Hartley 
Burgess,  Esq.,  of  St.  Heliers,  Jersey,  to  Jane, 
youngest  daughter  of  the  late  John  Slade,  Esq., 
of  Devizes,  Wilts,  5th  June. 

Burrell,  Walter  Wyndham,  youngest  son  of  Sir 
Charles  Merrick  Burrell,  of  Knepp  Castle,  in  the 
county  of  Sussex,  to  Dorothea,  youngest  dau.  of 
the  Rev.  John  Jones,  vicar  of  Burley-on-the-Hill, 
Rutlandshire,  10th  June. 

Carrow,  John  Monson,  Esq.,  eldest  son  of  the  late 
Rev.  Richard  Carrow,  of  Redland,  Glocester- 
shire,  to  Frances  Gertrude,  daughter  of  Edmund 
Broderip,  Esq.,  of  the  Manor-house,  Cossing- 
ton,  26th  May. 

Caulfeild,  W.  Montgomerie  S.,  Esq.,  Lieut,  of  the 
66th  Regiment,  son  of  Capt.  James  Caulfeild, 
R.N.,  to  Dora  Jane,  daughter  of  Wm.  French, 
of  Clooniquine,  county  of  Roscommon,  and  of 
Fitzwilliam-Bquare,  Dublin,  Esq.,  8th  June. 



Chambers,  Joseph,  Esq.,  of  the  Bengal  Army,  to 
Maria,  eldest  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Sir  Juhn 
Page  Wood,  Bart.,  10th  June. 

Clifford,  Charles,  Esq.,  eldest  son  of  George  Clif- 
ford, Esq.,  of  Wycliffe-hall,  Yorkshire,  to  Mary 
Ann,  third  daughter  of  John  Hercy,  Esq.,  of 
Hawthorn  hill,  Berkshire,  13th  Jan. 

Cochrane,  James,  Esq.,  of  her  Majesty's  IQth 
Regiment,  to  Mary,  daughter  of  Thomas  Gibson 
Brewer,  Esq.,  of  Elm-lodge,  Pinner,  Middlesex, 
and  Portland-place,  Jersey,  barrister- at- law,  10th 

Collette,  Henry,  Esq.,  Capt.  67th  Regiment,  eldest 
son  of  the  Major  General  J.  H.  Collette,  to 
Katherine,  youngest  daughter  of  the  late  Thos. 
Sharp,  Esq.,  Manchester,  25th  May. 

Colman,  George  A.  Esq.,  youngest  son  of  the 
late  W.  Colman,  Esq.,  of  Shirley,!  to  Frederica 
Eleanor  Lang,  second  surviving  daughter  of  Dr. 
Lang,  of  Bedford-square,  and  Newman-street, 
9th  June. 

Cooke,  the  Rev.  Wm.,  B.A.,  fourth  son  of  Thos. 
Cooke,  Esq.,  of  Goresfield,  near  Manchester,  tJ 
Fanny,  second  daughter  of  the  late  Rev.  G.  J. 
Haggitt,  of  Bury  St.  Edmund's,  27th  May. 

Cope,  Charles  Rogers,  Esq.,  of  Harbourne,  Staf- 
fordshire, to  Sarah  Ann,  eldest  daughter  of  the 
late  Edward  Rickards,  Esq.,  l6th  June. 

Cousin,  the  Rev.  Wm.,  of  the  Presbyterian  Church, 
Chelsea,  to  Anne  Ross,  daughter  of  the  late 
David  Ross  Cundell,  Esq.,  M.D.,  15th  June. 

Crosley,  Benjamin  Charles,  only  son  of  he  late 
Benjamin  Ashward  Crosley,  Esq.,  of  Great 
James-street,  Bedford-row,  to  Mary  Ann,  third 
daughter  of  John  Mountfield,  Esq.,  of  Great 
Coram-street,  Russell-square,  15th  June. 

Curry,  Capt.  Douglas,  R.N.,  son  of  Vice-Admiral 
Curry,  C.B.,  to  Elizabeth,  second  daughter  of 
Edward  Castleman,  Esq.,  of  Allandale-hoase, 
Wimborne,  and  of  Chettlc,  Dorset,  10th  June. 

Daly,  Owen,  Esq.,  M.D.  and  B.A.,  second  son  of 
the  late  E.  Daly,  Esq.,  of  .Mornington-hall, 
Westmeath,  Ireland,  to  Emma  Maria,  yonngest 
daughter  of  the  late  Thomas  Oldham,  Esq.,  of 
Saltrleetby  St.  Peter's. 

Dundas,  Frederick,  Esq.,  M.P.,  son  of  the  late 
Hon.  Charles  Lawrence  and  Lady  Caroline 

.  Dundas,  to  Grace,  eldest  daughter  of  Lady 
Grace  and  the  late  Sir  Ralph  Gore,  Bart.,  2nd 

Eaton,  the  Rev.  Walter,  M.A.,  of  Merton  College, 
Oxford,  to  Isabella,  youngest  daughter  of  G.  F. 
Iddius,  Esq.,  of  the  Woodrow,  Worcestershire, 
14th  June. 

Edwards,  James,  Esq.,  M.D.,  to  Eliza  Ellen,  dau. 
of  the  late  Jonathan  Smith,  Esq.,  8th  June. 

Everett,  Marven,  youngest  son  of  the  late  Wm. 
Marven  Everett,  Esq.,  Heytesbury,  Wiltshire,  to 
Maria,  eldest  daughter  of  Mill  Pellatt,  Esq., 
Plaistow,  Essex,  15th  June. 

Fox,  the  Rev.  R.  Stole,  youngest  son  of  George 
Townsend  Fox,  Esq.,  of  Durham,  to  Mrs.  Robt. 
Day,  eldest  .daughter  of  the  late  Rev.  W 
Bassett,  of  Nether-hall,  in  the  county  of  Suffolk 
9ih  June. 

Frere,  A.  E.,  Esq.,  Lieut,  in  her  Majesty's  24th 
Regiment,  to  Miss  Elizabeth  Palmer,  daughter 
of  Quartermaster  James  Price,  of  the  tame 
regiment,  llth  Jan. 

Frost,  Chas.  Maynard,  Esq.,  of  Ladbroke  Grove 
Netting  Hill,  third  son  of  the  late  Roht.  Frost, 
Esq  ,  of  the  Hon.  E.I.C.S.,  to  Emma,  youngest 

•_  daughter  of  the  late  James  Adams,  Esq.,  o; 
Plaistow,  Essex,  10th  June, 

Gale,  Robert  Leake,  Esq.,  eldest  son  of  Thomas 
Augustus  Gale,  Esq.,  of  Queen-square,  Blooms- 
bury,  London,  to  Mary  Ellen,  eldest  daughter  of 
Wm.  Radcliff,  Esq.,  of  Amherst  Island,  IQtb 

Gayton,  George,  Esq.,  of  Much  Hadham,  Herts,  t 

Sarah  Anne,  eldest  surviving  daughter   of  Thos. 

Samuel  Mott,  Esq.,  of  the  same  place.  May  29th. 

Gilstrap,  Win.,  cldestsonof  Joseph  Gilstrap,  Eai|., 

of     Newark- ou-trent,    Notts,      to     Elizabeth, 

youngest   daughter  of  Thomas   Haigh,  Esq.,   of 
Colne  Bridge-house,  Huddersfield,  2nd  June. 

Girsewald,  Baron  A.,  Aide-de-Camp  to  his  Royal 
Highness  the  reigning  Duke  of  Brunswick,  to 
Annie  Fector  Munro,  daughter  of  the  late  Gene- 
ral Munro,  Novar-lodge,  Cheltenham,  1st  June, 
ranville,  the  Rev.  Court,  to  Lady  Charlotte  Mur- 
"ray,  sister  of  the  Duke  of  Atholl,  10th  June. 

Grover,  Charles  Ehret,  Esq.,  of  Kernel  Hamp- 
stead,  Herts,  to  Jane,  youngest  daughter  of  the 
late  Wm.  Stanley,  Esq.,  of  Maryland  point, 
Essex,  1st  June. 

Hallett,  Henry  Hughes,  Esq.,  of  Staple- Inn,"  to 
Bridget  Ann,  second  daughter  of  Charleg  Wm. 

~  Hallett,  Esq.,  of  Surbiton-lodge,  Kingston,  15th 

Harris,  John  Hull  Walton,  Esq.,  to  Ann,  relict  of 
the  late  Thomas  Martin  Cocksedge,  Esq.,  of  the 
The  Hills,  Bury  St.  Edmund's,  12th  June. 

Henry,  Win.  G.  P.,  Esq.,  second  son  of  Thomas 
Henry,  Esq.,  of  Bush-hill,  Middlesex,  to 
Alice,  second  daughter  of  the  late  John  Home 
Scott,  Esq.,  8th  June. 

Hicks,  Wm.  John,  Esq.,  son  of  the  late  Lieut- 
Col.  Join  Hicks,  Esq.,  to  Katherine  Forbes, 
eldest  daughter  of  the  late  Major- General  Hogg, 
Bombay  Army,  10th  June. 

ffilton,  the  Rev.  Henry  Dennie,  B.A.,  curate  of 
St.  Margarett's,  and  son  of  the  Rev.  John  Hilton, 
M.A.,  of  Star  Court,  Kent,  to  Anne  Jane,  elder 
daughter  of  the  Rev.  Jemson  Davies,  M.A.,  vicar 
of  St.  Nicholas,  and  confrater  of  Wigston's 
Hospital,  Leicester,  3rd  June. 

Hutchings,  Hubert,  Esq.,  to  Geraldine  Laura, 
third  daughter  of  Lady  Elizabeth  Baker,  and 
sister  of  Sir  Edward  B.  Baker,  Bart.,  of  Ran- 
ston,  Dorset.  10th  June. 

Innes,  Captain  G.,  Royal  Artillery,  to  Frances 
Caroline,  widow  of  the  late  Hamilton  Gyll,  Esq., 
and  daughter  of  Sir  John  Murray,  of  Stanhope, 
Bart.,  3rd  June. 

Jarrett,  Mr.  Griffith,  fourth  son  of  J.  Jarrett,  Esq., 
Glasfryn-house,  Trawsfynydd,  \  to  Elizabeth, 
youngest  daughter  of  the  late  T.  Rowlands, 
Llwyngwern,  Machynlleth,  26th  May. 

Kelgour,  Wm.,  Esq.,  of  Liverpool,  son  of  the  late 
Geo.  Kilgour,  Esq.,  of  Woburn-place,  London, 
and  Balcairn,  Aberdeenshire,  to  Janet  Lindsay, 
dau.  of  the  late  Patrick  Smith,  Esq.,  of  Glas- 
gow, l6th  June. 

Kirk,  Rupert,  Esq.,  of  the  E.I.C.S.,  to  Elizabeth, 
eldest  daughter  of  Robert  Womersley,  Esq.,  of 
Stratford-green,  Essex,  1st  June. 

Landor,  the  Rev.  Chas.  W.,  vicar  of  Wichenford, 
Worcestershire,  to  Caroline,  youngest  daughter 
of  Wm.  Stanton,  Esq.,  of  Longbridge-house, 
Warwickshire,  8th  June.; 

Lane,  Edward  W.,  Esq.,  advocate,  to  Margaret 
Mary,  youngest  daughter  of  the  late  Sir  Wm. 
Drysdale,  of  Pitteuchar. 

Layard,  Rev.  C.  Clement,  vicar  of  Mayfield,  Staf- 
fordshire, son  of  the  Rev.  B.  V.  Layard,  of 
Uffington,  Lincolnshire,  to  Sarah,  eldest  dau.  of 
the  late  S.  J.  Somes,  Esq.,  of  Stratl'ord-green, 
Essex,,  3rd  June. 

Lendon,  Rev.  William  Penry,  of  Monmouth,  to 
Eliza,  eldest  daughter  of  the  Rev.  E.  Withers, 
of  Bognor,  Sussex,  9th  June. 

Madden,  Lewis  P.,  Esq.  M.D.,  son  of  the  late 
Lewis  P.  Madden,  Esq.  of  Clifton,  to  Ellen,  re- 
lict of  Captain  Sir  Edward  Astley,  R.N.,  of  Hay- 
selden,  Kent,  14th  June. 

Maxwell,  Lieut-Colonel  Sir  William  A.,  Bart.,  of 
Calderwood  ,  Castle,  Lanarkshire,  to  Catherine 
Cameron,  relict  of  the  late  Captain  H.  P.  Gill, 
of  the  50th  or  Queen's  Own,  and  fifth  daughter 
of  the  late  Walter  Logan,  Esq.,  Edinburgh,  15th 

Meeson,  John,  Esq.,  third  son  of  Thomas  Meeson, 
Esq.  of  Stratford,  co.  Essex,  to  Anne  Maria, 
fourth  daughter  of  William  Sewell,  Esq.  of  Plai- 
stow, in  the  same  county,  1st  June. 

Monypenny.R.'C.G.Gybbon,  Esq.,  eldest  son  of  T. 
Gybbon  Moneypenny,  Esq.  of  Hole-house,  Kent, 



to  Janet  Phillips,  eldest  daughter  of  the  late 
Lieut. -Col.  Burney,  B.N.I.,  2nd  June. 
Morgan,  Henry  C.  Esq.,  Lieut,  in  the  King's  Dra- 
goon Guards,  to  Selina  Louisa,  third  daughter  of 
Sir  East  Clayton-East,  of  Hall-place,  Berks, 

Nicolson,  Sir  Fred.W.  E.,  Bart.,  Captain  R.N.,  to 
Mary  Clementina  Marion,  only  daughter  of  James 
Loch,  Esq.,  M.P.,  26th  May. 
Nind,  Philip  Pitt,  Esq.,  son  of  the  late  Capt.  P.  P 
Nind,  Hon.  East  India  Company's   Service,  t 
Charlotte  Johnston,  third  surviving  daughter  o 
the  late  Major  John  Maugham,  R.M.,  9th  June 
Oakeley,  Henry,  Lieut.  R.N.,  fifth  son  of  the  late 
Rev.  Herbert  Oakeley,  D.D.,  of  Oakeley,  Salop 
to  Emily  Letitia,  third  daughter  of  the  late  Col 
Trelawney,  R.A.,  and  niece  of  Sir  William  Salus 
bury  Trelawney,  Bart.,  1st  June. 
Palmer,  William  James,  only  son  of  James  Palmer 
Esq.  of  the  Close,  Lichfield,  to  Mary  Spencer 
daughter  of  Robert   Onebye  Walker,    Esq.   o 
Bedford-square,  Qth  June. 

Park,  Chas.  Joseph,  eldest  son  of  Charles  Park,Esq 
of  Henbury-house,  Dorset,  to  Ellen  Mary,  seeonc 
dau.  of  the  Rev.  Charles  Wicksted  Ethelston,  o 
Wicksted-hall,  Cheshire,  and  Uplyme  Rectory 
Devon,  10th  June. 

Patient.  Ambrose,  eldest  son  of  Ambrose  Patient 
Esq.  of  Gorton,  Wilts,  to  Henrietta  Sophia 
youngest  daughter  of  the  late  William  Wyndhsca 
Esq.  of  Dinton-house,  Wilts,  5th  June. 
Ilawlinson,  Sir  Christopher,  eldest  surviving  son  o 
John  Rawlinson,  Esq.  of  Wimpole  -  street,  to 
Georgiana  Maria,  youngest  daughter  of  the  late 
Alexander  Radcliffe  Sidebottom,  Esq.  of  Sloane 
street  and  Lincoln's-inn,  27th  June. 
Rees,  William,  Esq.  of  Falcon  Villa,  Chelmsford, 
to  Emma  Jane,  daughter  of  Jolm  Carne,  Esq.  of 
Tresillion,  Trnro,  3rd  June. 

Kenny,  Capt.  Thomas,  of  the  Bengal  Engineers, 
eldest  son  of  Alexander  Renny  Tailyour,  Esq.  of 
Borrowfield,  co.  Forfar,  to  Miss  Isabella  E.  C. 
Atkinson,  second  daughter  of  the  late  Adam 
Atkinson,  Esq.  of  Lorbottle,  co.  Northumber- 
land, orh  June. 

Richmond,  Daniel,  Esq.,  surgeon,  of  Paisley,  to 
;  M'Kinnon,  daughter  of  Col. 

Henrietta  Fullerton 

A.  F.  Richmond,  C.B.,  Resident  at  the  Court  of 
Oude,  Lucknow,  East  Indies,  2nd  June. 

Riddell,  John  Carre,  Esq.  of  Melbourne,  Port  Phi- 
lip, one  of  the  magistrates  for  the  colony,  third 
son  of  the  late  Thomas  Riddell,  Esq.  of  Camies- 
town,  Roxburgh,  to  Anne,  eldest  dau.  of  Sidney 
Stephen,  Esq.  Barrister  at  Law,  Melbourne,  22nd 
Oct.  1846. 

Kobarts,  Rev.  Alfred,  only  son  of  W.  Robarts, 
Esq.  of  Burnham,  Bucks,  to  Eliaa,  Glover  Moore, 
youngest  dau.  ol  the  late  Rev.  John  Penketh 
Buee,  Incumbent  of  Cawthorne,  Yorkshire,  2nd 

Esq.,  late  of  the  India-house,  and  of  Herne-hill, 
Surrey,  12th  June. 

Skrine,  Rev.  Wadham  Huntley,  second  son  of 
Henry  Skrine,  Esq.  of  Stubbings  -  house,  co. 
Berks,  and  Warleigh,  co.  Somerset,  to  Clara 
Mary  Anne,  eldest  daughter  of  William  Mills, 
Esq.  of  Great  Saxham-hall,  Suffolk,  27th  May. 

Smith,  John  Esq.  of  Bydorp-house,  Hanwell,  to 
Emily,  only  surviving  daughter  of  the  late  Jasper 
Palfrey,  Esq*  of  Finham,  Warwickshire,  15th 

Springett,  Robert,  Esq.  of  Finchcox,  Goudhurst, 
Kent,  to  Louisa,  daughter  of  Robert  Watkins, 
Esq.  of  Augusta  house,  Worthing,  27th  June. 

Stevens,  Henry  H.,  to  Florance  Matilda,  eldest 
daughter  of  the  late  Charles  Shannon,  Esq.  of 
Dublin,  Barrister-at-law,  10th  June. 

Suttpn,  Thomas  Esq.,  B.  A.,  of  Caius  College,  Cam- 
bridge, to  Mary,  third  daughter  of  the  late  John 
Grace,  Esq.  of  Whitby,  near  Chester,  8th  June. 

Thomas,  Rev.  William,  D.D.,  late  senior  chaplain- 
at  Madras,  to  Mrs.  Williams,  widow  of  the  Rev. 
Richard  Williams,  prebendary  of  Lincoln,  and 
rector  of  Great  Houghton,  Northamptonshire,  3d 

Thompson,  Thomas  Kirkby,  Esq.  ofMecklenburgh- 
square,  to  Harriett  Alice,  only  daughter  of  the 
late  J.  Turner,  Esq.  of  Ham-house,  near  Cow- 
bridge,  Glamorganshire,  5th  June. 

Thrupp,  Rev.  Horace  W.,  B.A.,  of  Exeter  College. 
Oxford,  to  Gcorgina  Theresa,  second  daughter  of 
Mr.  Pyle,  of  Barnes  terrace,  12th  June. 

Thuiilier,  Henry  Landor,  Esq.  of  the  Bengal  Artil- 
lery, Officiating  Deputy  Survey  or- General  of  In- 
dia, to  Annie  Charlotte,  eldest  dau.  of  George 
Gordon  Macpherson,  Esq.,  8th  April. 

Tilt,  Edward  John,  Esq.,  M.D.,  of  10,  Norfolk  - 
street,  Park  lane,  to  Dorothy  Emma,  daughter  of 
the  late  J.  G.  Sparrow,  Esq  of  Gosficld-place^ 
Essex,  27th  April. 

Jniacke,  Rev.  Richard  John,  B.A.,  of  St.  Alban's 
Hall,  Oxford,  rector  of  Newport,  to  Ann  J;me, 
youngest  daughter  of  the  Venerable  Robt.  Willis, 
D.D.,  Archdeacon  of  Nova  Scotia,  1st  June. 

Vagstaff,  J.,  Esq.,  of  Lullington,  near  Burton-on 
Trent,  to  Fanny,  fourth  daughter  of  John  Mt-e, 
Esq.  East  Retford,  3rd  June. 

Valker,  Henry,  son  of  Henry  Walker,  Esq.  of 
Hampton-wick,  to  Sarah  Ann,  daughter  of  James 
Payne,  Esq.,  High-street,  Marylebone,  27th  June. 
Wells,  Capt.  Francis  Charles,  of  the  15th  Bombay 
Native  Infantry,  to  Barbara  Emilia  Susanna, 
daughter  of  Robert  Thurnburn,  Esq.  of  Alexan- 
dria, llth  May. 

Wickenden,  Thomas,  eldest  son  of  Thomas  Wick- 

enden,  Esq.  of  Frindsbury,  Kent,  to  Maria,  young- 
est daughter  of  Charles  Harries,  Esq.  of  Feu- 

church-street  and   Guildford  -  street,   llussei-sq 
,     5th  June. 

June.  (Wilson,   G.  V.  ,  Esq..  of  White-house,  Killybegs, 

Robinson,  Charles  Edward,  Esq.,  io  Mary,  daugh-      co.  Donegal,  Ireland,  to  Sophia,  youngest  dau. 

ofS.  Sheldon,  Esq.,  10th  June,      ' 
Wilson,  Rev.  Benjamin,  to  Fanny  Sherard,  second 
daughter   of  the  late  Caryer  bherard,  Esq.  15th 

i*wuiu*vs*j  vuai  ico    .raunaiu,    juaij.,   iti  J 

ter  of  the  late  Robert  Brown   llussel",   Esq."  of 
Streatham,  Surrey,  3d  June. 

Rye,  Hubert  Barnes,  only  son  of  Captain  George 
Hubert  Rye,  R.N.,  of  Bideford,  Devon,  to  Eliza, 

third  daughter  of  Mr.  George  Daniel,  of  Canon- 

Woolley,   Thomas,  third  son  of  William  Willey, 

Esq.  of  1'eckham,  to  Sarah,  second  daughter  of 
the  late  Thomas  Kingsley,  Esq.  of  the  Grove, 
Camberwell,  3rd  June. 

bury,  25th  May. 
Santi,     Chevalier     Charles     to    Caroline     Davie, 

second    daughter  of   Sir  H.    Ferguson     Davie, 

Bart.,  3 1st  May.  |  Wyllie,  Stewart  Eaton,  youngest  son  of  the  late 

Scott,  John,   Esq.,  to  Isabella,  third  daughter  of      Alexander  Wyllie,  Esq.  of  Thames  Ditton,  Sur- 

the  late  Robert  Carnachan,   Esq.  of  Stranracr,!     rey,  to  Jemima,  eldest  daughter  of  Samuel  Kidd, 

Galloway,  5th  May.  Esq.  of  Boulogne-sur  Mer. 

Shoobridgc,  T.  B.,  Esq.,  Craythorne  House,  Ten- :  Zwinger,  James,  Esq.  of  Havre,  to  Leonora,  young- 

dcrdcn,  to  Mrs.  Ball,  widow  of  James  lline  Ball,!     est  daughter  of  A.  A.  Micvelle,  Esq.,  of  Gower- 

i     street,  Bedford-square,  Oth  June. 


Hnnotatett  (JMritttarjn 

Abdy,  Charlotte  Georgina,  wife  of  Lieut. 
Colonel  Abdy,  late  of  the  East  India 
Company's  service,  on  their  Madras  es- 
tablishment, at  Boulogne  sur  Mer,  2nd 

Ashby,  Harry,  Esq.  at  Plymouth,  aged  69, 
13th  June. 

Barstow,  James  Maltravers,  only  child  of 
James  Barstow,  Esq.  Barrister  at  Law, 
aged  11,12th  June. 

Bates,  Charles  Chester,  youngest  son  of  the 
late  John  Henry  Bates,  Esq.  of  Denton, 
aged  32,  1st  June. 

Bayne,  William,  Esq.  J.P.  and  D.L.  for 
Middlesex,  at  Newgrove,?aged  86,  llth 

Baynes,  Captain  Thomas,  formerly  of  the 
39th  and  88th  Regiments,  at  Brussels, 
27th  May.  This  veteran  served  in  the 
Peninsular  campaign,  and  was  present 
at  Waterloo,  where  he  acted  as  Aide- 
de-Camp  to  General  Sir  John  Lam- 
bert, G.C.B. 

Beatson,  Catherine  B.  C.  C.,  second  daugh- 
ter of  the  late  Major-General  Beatson, 
of  Henley  house,  Frant,  and  formerly 
Governor  of  St.  Helena,  at  Edinburgh, 
6th  June. 

Beckett,  the  Rt.  Hon.  Sir  John,  Bart,  aged 
73,  31st  May.  Sir  John  was  the  eldest 
son  of  Sir  John  Beckett,  Bart,  of  Somerby 
Park,  co.  Lincoln,  and  grandson,  mater- 
nally, of  Dr.  Wilson,  Bishop  of  Bristol. 
He  received  his  education  at  Trinity  Col- 
lege, Cambridge,  and  there  greatly  dis- 
tinguished himself,  taking  a  wrangler's 
degree  in  1795.  His  first  return  to  Par- 
liament was  by  the  Borough  of  Cocker- 
mouth,  in  1820.  He  subsequently  sat 
for  Haslemere,  and,  finally,  represented 
the  populous  town  of  Leeds.  In  the 
Duke  of  Wellington's  administration  he 
held  the  appointments  of  Judge-Marshal 
and  Advocate-General ;  and  during  Sir 
Robert  Peel's  short-lived  Ministry  of 
1834  resumed  those  offices.  Politically, 
he  adhered  with  firmness  to  Tory  princi- 
ples, and  voted  against  the  Reform  Bill, 
the  Municipal  Corporation  Bill,  and  the 
Irish  Tithe  Measure.  He  had  been  a 
Privy  Councillor  since  1817.  Sir  John 
Beckett  married  in  that  year  Lady  Anne 
Lowther,  daughter  of  Willium,  Earl  of 
Lonsdale,  K.G.  but  lias  died  without 
issue;  the  title  devolving  on  his  brother, 
now  Sir  Thomas  Beckett,  Bart,  the  emi- 
nent banker  of  Leeds. 

Bellamy,  Fanny  Maria,  youngest  daughter 
of  the  Rev.  J.  W.  Bellamy,  at  Sellinge 
Vicarage,  13th  June. 

Bird,  Lewis,  only  son  of  the  late  Rev.  Lewis 
Bird,  at  Pennington  Parsonage,  aged  4 
30th  May. 

Brackenbury,  Sarah,  relict  of  the  late  Ro- 
bert Carr  Brackenbury,  Esq.  of  Raithby 
hall,  co.  Lincoln,  at  Loughborough,  12th 

Buckle,  Emma,  eldest  surviving  daughte 
of    the    late  Matthew  Buckle,   Esq.  of 
Norton  house,  Chichester,  7th  June. 

Burrard,  Philip  James,  Esq.  Student,  Clare 
Hall,  Cambridge,  aged  21,  llth  June. 

Bush,  Thomas,  Esq.  of  Melbury  terrace, 
aged  65,  llth  June. 

Calmann,  Dr.  Ludwig,  at  Hammersmith, 
aged  41,  6th  June. 

Campbell,  Lieutenant- General  Sir  Colin, 
K.C.  B.  Colonel  of  the  72nd  Highlanders, 
and  late  Governor  of  Ceylon,  after  an 
illness  of  only  three  days,  in  King  street, 
St.  James's,  13th  June.  This  distin- 
guished officer  was  fifth  son  of  John 
Campbell,  Esq.  of  Melfort,in  Argyllshire, 
and  brother  of  the  late  Admiral  Sir  Patrick 
Campbell.  He  was  born  in  1777,  and 
joined  the  army  in  1799,  when  he  almost 
immediately  entered  on  the  active  duties 
of  his  profession.  His  gallantry  in  the 
Peninsula  soon  won  for  him  the  notice  of 
his  illustrious  Commander,  and  his  name 
and  exploits  occupy  no  inglorious  space 
in  the  official  despatches.  For  a  con- 
siderable time  he  held  the  appointments 
of  Assistant- Adjutant- General  and  Assis- 
tant-Quartermaster-General ;  and  for  his 
eminent  services  at  Talavera,  Busa^o, 
Fuentes  d'Onor,  Badajoz,  Salamanca, 
Vittoria,  the  Pyrenees,  Nivelle,  Nives 
and  Toulouse,  he  received  a  Cross  and 
Six  Clasps.  At  the  consummating  vic- 
tory of  Waterloo,  Colonel  Campbell 
commanded  the  Royal  Scots :  and  so 
conspicuous  was  his  conduct  on  that  me- 
morable occasion,  that  the  officers  of  the 
regiment  testified  their  admiration  by  the 
presentation  of  a  sword  valued  at  seventy 
guineas,  and  the  Sovereign  conferred,  in 
recompense,  the  insignia  of  the  Bath. 
Sir  Colin  was  also  invested  with  the  orders 
of  Maria  Theresa,  St.  George,  the  Tower 
and  Sword,  and  Maximilian  Joseph  of 
Bavaria.  Subsequently,  after  acting  for 
several  years  as  Lieutenant-Governor  cf 
Portsmouth,  and  holding  the  command 



of  the  South-West  District,  he  was  ap- 
pointed Lieutenant-Governor  of  Nova 
Scotia,  and  finally,  in  1840,  made  Go- 
vernor of  Ceylon,  in  which  island  he 
remained  until  the  recent  appointment 
of  Lord  Torrington.  In,  1836  he  became 
Colonel  of  the  7'2nd  Highlanders,  and  in 
1838  reached  the  rank  of  Lieut.  General. 
At  the  period  of  his  decease,  Sir  Colin 
Campbell  had  just  completed  his  70th 
year.  He  married  Miss  Harden,  dau. 
of  Henry  Harden,  Esq.  but  was  left  a 
widower  in  1838,  with  three  sons  and 
three  daughters ;  the  former  are  Col. 
Fitzroy  Camphell ;  Lieut.  A.  Campbell, 
Aide-de-Camp  to  Sir  Charles  Napier  in 
India;  and  Capt.  F.  Campbell,  R.N. 
Of  the  daughters,  the  eldest,  Maria 
Louisa,  married  first  to  Hon.  C.  F.  Nor- 
ton, and  second,  to  the  Hon.  Edmund 

Campbell,  Dougal,  Esq.  M.  D.  half-pay 
Surgeon,  Royal  Artillery,  at  Boulogne 
sur  Mer,  where  he  had  been  practising  as 
physician  for  upwards  of  25  years,  aged 
67,  22nd  May.  He  claimed  the  earldoms 
of  Annandale  and  Hartfell,  and  his  bro- 
ther, the  late  Colonel  William  Claud 
Campbell,  had  claimed  the  earldoms  of 
Crawford  and  Lindsay. 

Capher,  the  Rev.  George,  Vicar  of  Wher- 
stead,  Suffolk,  aged  30,  14th  June. 

Chalmers,  the  Rev.  Thomas,  D.D.  This 
eminent  divine  was  born  in  1776,  and 
towards  the  beginning  of  the  present  cen- 
tury he  commenced  his  distinguished 
theological  career  as  Minister  in  the  parish 
of  Kilmany,  in  Fifeshire.  He  remained 
there  for  twelve  years,  and  was  translated 
to  the  Tron  Church  of  Glasgow  in  1815. 
During  this  time  he  produced  his  work 
on  Natural  Theology,  and  his  "  Sketches 
of  Moral  and  Mental  Philosophy."  His 
"  Evidences  of  the  Christian  Revelation  ' 
were  originally  published  in  the  "  Ency 
clopaedia  Britannica,"  under  the  manage- 
ment of  Dr.  Brewster.  In  Glasgow  his 
astronomical  and  commercial  discourses, 
so  sensible,  so  profound,  and  so  Christian, 
proved  of  incalculable  benefit  to  the  moral 
and  social  improvement  of  his  fellow 
citizens — aye,  and  to  many  thousands  of 
his  fellow  men,  both  in  and  out  of  Scot- 
land. His  work  on  the  civic  and  Christian 
economy  of  large  towns  is  of  inestimable 
value.  In  1823  Dr.  Chalmers  accepted 
the  Chair  of  Moral  Philosophy  in  the 
New  College  of  St.  Andrew's,  where  he 
remained  until  1828,  when  he  received 
the  appointment  of  Theological  Professor 
in  the  University  of  Edinburgh.  From 
the  period  of  his  settlement  at  St.  Andrew 
until  his  removal  to  Edinburgh,  he  pub- 
lished his  works  on  "  Endowment^"  unc: 
on  *' Political  Economy,"  his  "Bridge- 

water  Treatise,"  and  his  "  Lectures  on 
the  Romans."  Altogether  his  published 
works  form  twenty-five  ;volumes  :  their 
circulation  has  been  very  large.  In  1843 
the  Doctor  resigned  his  Professorship  in 
the  University,  and  became  Principal  of 
the  New  College.  The  death  of  Dr. 
Chalmers  was  very  sudden.  He  was  found 
on  the  morning  of  the  31st  ult.  dead  in 
his  bed,  to  which  he  had  retired  the  pre- 
vious night  in  apparent  health.  As  the 
intellectual  leader  of  the  Free  Church  of 
Scotland,  as  an  able  writer  and  preacher, 
and  as  one  of  the  best4of  good  men,  Dr. 
Chalmers  leaves  behind  him  an  undying 
reputation.  The  spiritual  and  earthly 
welfare  of  all  men  was  the  mainspring  of 
his  thoughts  and  actions.  His  tlove  and 
care  extended  to  every  class,  but  his  heart 
was  chiefly  with  the  poor  of  his  people. 
He  devoted  his  great  and  comprehensive 
powers  to  their  enfranchisement  from  sin 
and  suffering.  Under  his  influence,  virtue 
and  happiness  have  become  the  inmates 
of  many,  many  cottage  homes  in  Scotland. 

Chandler,  William  Botsford.  Esq  barrister 
at  law,  eldest  son  of  the  Hon.  E.  B. 
Chandler,  of  Dorchester,  in  the  province 
of  New  Brunswick,  llth  June. 

Chichester,  Sir  Arthur,  Bart,  of  Greencastle. 
Accounts  from  Ireland  announce  the  de- 
cease of  this  gentleman.  He  represented 
a  branch  of  the  noble  house  of  Donegal, 
and  resided  at  Greencastle,  in  the  county 
of  that  name.  He  was  only  son  of  the 
Rev.  William  Chichester,  by  Mary  Anne, 
his  first  wife,  daughter  of  George  Harvey, 

,  Esq.  of  Malin  Hall,  and  obtained  the 
patent  of  Baronetcy  in  1821. 

Clarance,  Louisa,  widow  of  the  late  C. 
Clarance,  Esq.  of  Lodge  hall,  co.  Essex, 
at  No.  14,  Billiter  street,  the  residence 
of  her  son,  aged  83,  5th  June. 

Colvin,  James,  Esq.  of  71,  Old  Broad  street, 
and  of  Little  Bealings,  co.  Suffolk,  at  his 
house,  55,  Manchester  street,  Manchester 
square,  aged  80,  25th  May. 

Cooke,  Mary  Anne,  wife  of  the  Rev.  Wm. 
Cooke,  Vicar  of  Bromyard,  28th  May. 

Cotton,  Louisa  Decima,  youngest  daughter 
of  the  late  Joseph  Cotton,  Esq.  ofLayton, 
Essex,  9th  June. 

Creed,  Frances  Gwynne,  wife  of  Captain 
Henry  Creed,  Hon.  Company's  Artillery, 
and  youngest  dau.  of  Lieutenant  General 
Sir  David  Ximenes,  K.C.H.  at  Bombay, 
aged  21,  llth  April. 

Cutler,  Clara  Eliza,  wife  of  Frank  Cutler, 
Esq.  Her  Britannic  Majesty's  Vice  Con- 
sul, at  Le  Bocage,  near  Bordeaux,  30th 

Dagley,  Mrs.  Mary,  at  Connaught  square, 
3rd  June. 

Dalton,  Charlotte  Amelia,  wife  of  Mr. 
Francis  Dalton,  surgeon,  and  third  dau. 



of  the  late  John  Bott,  Esq.  Secretary  to 
the  Privy  Purse  of  his  late  Majesty  Wil- 
liam IV.  aged  34,  25th  June. 

Debenham,  John,  Esq.  Com.  R.N.  aged 
76,  15th  June. 

De  Brett,  Mary  Isabella,  second  surviving 
daughter  of  the  late  Capt.  De  Brett,  of 
the  Bengal  Art.  8th  June. 

Diggens,  Francis,  Esq.  late  Banker  at 
Chichester,  at  Upper  George  street,  26th 

Ellerby,  Mrs.  Elizabeth,  of  Whitby,  aged 
92, 13th  June. 

Elton,  Lieut.  Col.  late  of  the  1st  Dragoon 
Guards,  aged  63,  1st  June. 

Essington,  William  Webb,  Esq.  of  the  Firs, 
Great  Malvern,  aged  61,  13th  June. 

Eyston,  Jane,  widow  of  the  late  Basil 
Eyston,  Esq.  of  East  Hendred,  Berks,  at 
Overbury,  Worcestershire,  7th  June. 

Farrant,  Thomas,  Esq.  of  Norsted  house, 
Kent,  and  Great  Hale,  Lincolnshire,  at 
his  house,  17,  Montague- street,  Portman 
square,  aged  74,  6th  June. 

Fawkes,  Maria  Sophia,  relict  of  the  late 
Walter  Fawkes,  Esq.,  of  Farnley  hall, 
Yorkshire,  at  Malvern,  4th  June. 

Fitzgerald,  Sir  William,  Bart,  of  Carrygo- 
ran,  co.  Clare,  at  Dublin,  30th  May.  He 
was  son  of  Edward  Fitzgerald,  Esq.  of 
Carrygoran,  M.P.  for  the  county  of  Clare, 
to  whom  Col.  Augustine  Fitzgerald,  of 
Silver  Grove,  left  a  considerable  portion 
of  his  large  property ;  and  succeeded  to 
the  Baronetcy  in  1834,  at  the  decease  of 
his  brother,  Lieut.-Gen.  Sir  Augustine 
Fitzgerald.  Sir  Wm.  married,  in  1305, 
Emilia  Gumming,  youngest  daughter  of 
William  Veale,  Esq.  of  Trevayler,  in 
Cornwall,  and  niece  of  Sir  Alexander 
Penrose  Gumming  Gordon,  Bart,  by  whom 
he  has  left  issue,  three  sons — the  eldest 
Sir  Edward  Fitzgerald,  the  present  Bart. ; 
and  one  daughter  Emilia  Mary,  wife  of 
the  Hon.  James  Butler,  5th  son  of  Lord 

Flockton,  Thomasine  Mary,  only  child  of 
the  late  Thomas  Flockton,  Esq.  of  Twick- 
enham, 13th  June. 

Eraser,  Lieut.-Col.  K.H.  formerly  of  the 
83rd  Regiment  of  Infantry,  and  for  23 
years  Fort-Major  of  Jersey,  at  Hounslow, 
where  he  had  gone  for  the  benefit  of  his 
health,  12th  June. 

Frome,  Harriet,  widow  of  Wm.  Castle 
Frome,  late  Lieut-Col.  22nd  Regiment, 
29th  May. 

Galloway,  Margaret  Bridger  Goodrich,  wife 
of  the  Rev.  James  Galloway,  at  the 
Rectory,  Spaxton,  Somersetshire,  in  the 
43rd  year  of  her  age,  8th  June. 

Girling,  William,  gentleman,  of  Yaxham, 
youngest  son  of  the  late  William  Girling, 
Esq.  of  Twyford  lodge  and  East  Dere. 
ham,  and  Catherine,  his  first  wife,  dau. 
of  Christopher  Andrews,  Esq.  of  Weston 

Longueville,  Norfolk,  at  Mattishall  hall, 
in  his  83rd  year,  29th  April. 

Graham,  Mrs.  Penelope,  at  Belgrave  house, 
Turnham  Green,  22nd  May. 

Gtyll,  Grace,  youngest  dau.  of  Wm.  Gyll, 
Esq.  of  Wraysbury,  co.  Bucks,  aged  84, 
1st  June. 

Hagerman,  the  Hon.  Christopher  Alexander, 
one  of  the  Judges  of  her  Majesty's  Court 
of  Queen's  Bench,  Upper  Canada,  at 
Toronto,  in  the  aged56,  14th  May. 

Harriott,  the  Rev.  Wm.,  Vicar  of  Odiham, 
Hants,  aged  57,  llth  June. 

Herbert,  the  Hon.  and  very  Rev.  William, 
L.L.D.,  Dean  of  Manchester,  died  on 
the  28th  May,  at  his  residence  in  Here- 
ford-street, Park  lane.  He  has  been 
somewhat  of  an  invalid  during  the  last 
two  years,  but  his  decease  occurred  unex- 
pectedly. On  the  morning  of  the  day  he 
died,  he  appeared  better  than  usual,  and 
went  out;  but  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  after  his  return  home,  he  suddenly 
fell  back  in  the  chair  and  expired.  Dr. 
Herbert  was  born  in  1778,  the  third  son 
of  Henry  first  Earl  of  Carnarvon,  by 
Eliza  Alicia  Maria,  his  wife,  daughter  of 
Charles  Earl  of  Egremont.  Thus,  pater- 
nally and  maternally,  he  derived  descent 
from  two  of  our  most  eminent  families — 
the  Herberts  and  the  Wyndhams.  By 
Letitia  Dorothea,  his  wife,  daughter  of 
Joshua  fifth  Viscount  Allen,  he  leaves 
two  sons  and  two  daughters. 

Hewrett,  Emily  Jane,  second  dau.  of  Henry 
William  Hewrett,  Esq.  at  Chatham,  9th 

Hodges,  George,  Esq.  late  of  Felton,  Salop, 
aged  84,  3rd  June. 

Hously,  Samuel,  Esq.  of  Gloucester  terrace, 
Regents  Park,  9th  June. 

Hurst,  Thomas,  Esq.  formerly  of  the  firm 
of  Longman  and  Co.,  aged  73,  2nd  June. 

Hutton,  Richard,  Esq.  Barrister  at  Law, 
at  Newcastle  on  Tyne,  llth  June. 

Innes,  John  William,  Esq.  of  the  Admiralty, 
aged  68,  23rd  May. 

Irton,  Lieut.-Col.  Richard,  of  the  Rifle 
Brigade,  aged  49,  9th  June. 

Johnson,  Barbara,  third  daughter  of  the 
late  Charles  Johnson,  Esq.  of  Camber- 
well,  13th  June. 

Jutting,  Margaret,  wife  of  John  Henry 
Jutting,  Esq.  formerly  of  London,  at 
Jersey,  13th  June. 

Kent,  Frances,  wife  of  the  Rev.  Anthony 
Kent,  of  Oriel  College,  Oxon,  30th  May. 

Koch,  Geo.  Peter,  eldest  son  of  Peter  Koch, 
Esq.  at  Frankfort,  aged  4  years,  6th  June. 

Lawson,  John,  Esq.  of  Shooter's  hill  and 
Bexley  heath,  Kent,  second  son  of  the 
late  John  Lawson,  Esq.  of  Bowness  hill, 
in  the  co.  of  Cumberland,  5th  June. 

Little,  John,  Esq.  at  Walthamstow,  aged  87, 
2nd  June. 

Maclean,  Allan,    eldest     son  of    the  late 



Lieut.-Gen., Sir  Joseph  Maclean,  K.C.H. 
10th  June.' 

M'Pherson,  Elizabeth,  second  daughter  of 
the  late  William  North,  Esq.  of  Chelsea, 
and  widow  of  the  late  Alexander  M'Pher- 
son,  Esq.,  at  her  house,  in  Cadogan- 
place,  15th  June. 

Magendie,  Stuart,  eldest  son  of  the  Rev. 
Stuart  Magendie,  Vicar  of  Longden,  4th 

Marriott,  Sarah,  wife  of  T.  Marriott,  Esq. 
at  Pap  ill  on  hall,  co.  Leicester,  13th  June. 

Martin,  Selina,  wife  of  the  Rev.  Samuel 
Martin,  Rectory,  Warsop,  Notts,  2nd 

Martin  Thomas  Byan,  the  eldest  son  of 
Capt.  William  Fanshawe  Martin,  Royal 
Navy,  at  Anglesey,  near  Gosport,  6th 

Milner,  Col.^late  of  the  18th  Dragoons, 
and  brother  of  Sir  William  Mordaunt 
Milner,  of  Nun-Appleton,  in  the  co. 
York,  at  Mickleham,  on  the  31st  May. 

Murphy.  Mary  Ann,  widow  of  the  late  Col. 
John  Murphy,  of  Malaga,  a  Knight,  of 
Alcantara,  &c.,  at  Montagu-place,  Russell 
square,  aged  58,  24th  May. 

Odell,  John,  Esq.  at  Carreglea,  co.  Water- 
ford,  26th  May. 

Pearson,  Lieutenant-General  Sir  Thomas, 
K.C.H.,  at  Bath.  This  gallant' officer, 
eon  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Horner  Pearson, 
entered  the  army  in  1796,  and  served 
against  Flushing,  in  the  Helder  Expedi- 
tion, in  Egypt,  North  America,  the  West 
Indies,  and  Portugal,  and  throughout  the 
last  American  War.  He  received  several 
severe  wounds,  and  was  one  of  the 
general  officers  who  enjoyed  rewards  for 
distinguished  services.  He  wore  a  medal 
and  one  clasp  for  his  conduct  as  Major  of 
the  23rd  Foot  at  Albuera,  and  as  second 
in  command  at  Chrystler's  Farm.  He 
was  born  in  1782  ;  and  marriedr  in  1810, 
a  daughter  of  General  Coffin.  At  the 
period  of  his  decease,  he  held  the  Colo- 
nelcy of  the  85th  regiment. 

Paine,  Wm.  Pinke,  Esq.  at  Farnham,  aged 
64,  4th  June. 

Papworth,  John  Buonarotti.  The  death  of 
this  gentleman,  late  Vice-president  of  the 
Royal  Institute  of  British  Architects, 
occurred  recently,  at  his  residence,  Park 
End,  St.  Neot's;  whither  he  had  retired 
from  London,  after  more  than  fifty  years 
of  professional  practice.  Early  in  life, 
his  excellent  judgment  and  kind  heart 
acquired  for  him  the  intimacy  of  the 
leading  artists  ;  and,  also,  the  confidence 
of  many  wealthy  amateurs  as  to  the 
direction  of  their  patronage,  and  as  to  the 
decoration  of  their  mansions.  In  his 
practice,  he  originated  and  accomplished 
the  adoption  of  the  tasteful  style  of 
modern  furniture  ;  which  led  to  his  selec- 
tion by  Government  for  the  trust  of  carry- 

ing out  the  formation  of  the  Somerset - 
House  School  of  Design.  His  work  on 
Garden  and  Rural  Architecture,  were  the 
result  of  his  experience  in  Landscape 
Gardening,  which  he  joined  as  a  profes- 
sion with  his  other  art.  Amongst  the 
clients  to  whom  he  owed  an  extremely 
varied  practice,  he  numbered  several  of 
the  late  branches  of  the  Royal  Family, 
especially  the  Princess  Charlotte :  and 
also  the  present  King  of  Wurtemberg, 
from  whom  he,  having  designed  the 
English  Park  and  Palace  at  Kaunstadt, 
received  the  appointment  of  Architect  to 
his  Maiesty.  Mr.  Papworth  was  highly 
respected,  not  only  by  his  private  friends 
and  by  his  clients,  but  also  by  those 
severer  judges,  the  members  of  his  own 
profession.  *_ 

Perry,  John,  Esq.  Bencher  of  Gray's  Inn, 
12th  June. 

of  Phillips,  Thomas  Bentley,  Esq.  at  Beverley, 
aged  40,  10th  June. 

Plaskett,  Sir  Richard,  K.M.G.,  of  Hampton 
House,  Torquay,  aged  66,  12th  June. 
Sir  Richard  Plasket  was  the  third  son  of 
Mr  Thomas  Flasket,  of  Clifford-street, 
London  ;  he  was  born  in  1 782,  and  early 
in  life  filled  an  appointment  in  the  Colo- 
nial Department.  He  was  subsequently 
employed  as  private  and  public  Secretary 
to  the  Governments  at  Ceylon,  Malta, 
and  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  The  im- 
portant duties  of  these  official  places  he 
discharged  for  a  period  of  twenty-six 
years  with  so  much  satisfaction  to  the 
Home  Administration,  that,  in  considera- 
tion of  his  eminent  sevices,  he  was  nomi- 
nated a  Knight  of  the  Order  of  St.  Mi- 
chael and  St  George,  on  its  institution 
in  1818.  He  married  in  1836. 

Preston,  Lady  Baird,  of  Valleyfield  and 
Frentown,  widow  of  General  the  Right 
Hon.  Sir  David  Baird,  Bart.  G.C.B., 
K.C.  In  the  absence  of  issue  by  her 
marriage  the  estate  of  Valleyfield  and 
Frentown  descend  to  her  sister,  Miss 
Preston,  at  Valleyfield,  Perthshire,  28th 

Rankin.  the  Rev.  Francis  John  Harrison, 
B.A.,  Her  Majesty's  Colonial  and  Gar- 
rison Chaplain,  at  the  Gambia,  West 
Coast  of  Africa,  aged  41,  28th  March. 

Reed,  Catherine,  the  wife  of  Assistant  Com- 
missary-General Reed,  at  Corfu,  Ionian 
Isles,  aged  45. 

Richards,  John,  Esq.  of  Wassell  Grove, 
Worcestershire,  and  of  Calvert's-build- 
ings,  Southwark,  formerly  High-Sheriff 
for  the  county  of  Worcester,  and  member 
in  two  successive  parliaments  for  the 
borough  of  Knaresborough,  aged  67. 

Robertdean, Lieutenant  Colonel  James  Wra. 
late  of  the  Bengal  Cavalry,  last  surviv- 
ing son  of  the  late  ( John  Peter  Robert' 
dean,Esq.  of  Chelsea,  aged  58, 15th  June- 



Robertson,  Major-General  Archibald,  o 
the  Bombay  Army,  at  Baker-street,  9th 

Robinson,  Nathaniel,  Esq.  at  Littlebury 
Essex,  23rd  May. 

Konald,  Robert,  Esq.  at  the  Elms,  Derby 
23rd  May. 

Roope,  Cabel,  Esq.  late  of  Oporto,  in  Wo- 
burn  square,  aged  70,  8th  June. 

Ross,  Amelia,  wife  of  Major- General  Si 
Patrick  Ross,  Governor  of  St.  Helen's 
and  youngest  daughter  of  the  late  Major- 
General  William  Sydenham,  of  the  Hon 
East  India  Company's  Service,  al 
Brighton,  8th  June. 

Scott,  Emma  Jane, widow  of  the  late  Major 
Hugh  Scott,  Deputy  Adjutant  Genera 
of  the  Madras  Army,  and  eldest  daughte: 
of  the  late  Henry  Harris,  Esq.  M.D. 
member  of  the  Madras  Medical  Board 
at  Bayswater,  in  the  52nd  year  of  her 
age,  31st  May. 

Selwyn,  Albinia  Frances,  widow  of  the  late 
Dr.  Congreve  Selwyn,  at  Cheltenham,  in 
the  63rd  year  of  her  age,  29th  May. 

Sheridan,  Charles  Kinnaird,  Esq.  youngest 
son  of  the  late  Thomas  Sheridan,  Esq, 
at  the  English  Embassy,  Paris,  aged  30, 
30th  May. 

SJade,  Emma,  wife  of  R.  G.  Slade,  Esq.  ol 
Gloucester  street,  Portman  square,  10th 

Smith,  Frances,  widow  of  the  Rev.  Henry 
Smith,  of  Hyde  park  Place,  llth  June. 

Sommery,  Madame  la  Marquise  de,  born 
Riquet  de  Caraman — the  last  of  eight 
brothers  and  sisters,  all  of  whom  had  to 

,  bear  the  storm  of  the  French  Revolution, 
its  prisons,  exile,  wars,  and  other  trials, 
yet  all  of  whom  reached  an  advanced  age 
—departed  this  life  at  Bath,  in  the  78th 
year  of  her  age,  22nd  May.  She  was 
born  on  the  28th  of  October,  1768;  and 
was  married  to  the  late  Marquess  de 
Sommery  in  1786,  She  was  one  amongst 
the  last  presentations  at  Versailles,  during 
the  splendour,  pomp,  and  ceremony  of 
the  ancient  Court,  and  attracted  the  ad 
miration  of  all  by  her  grace  and  beauty  ; 
but  these  personal  ad^  antages  added  to 
others  which  she  possessed,  had  no  power 
to  seduce  her  heart;  misfortune  soon 
taught  her  to  despise  the  flattering  illu- 
sions of  this  world,  and  she  gave 
up  without  reserve  to  sentiments  of  piety 
and  religion,  and  to  the  fulfilment 
affections  and  duties,  from  which  nothing 
could  withdraw  her  attention.  She  be- 
came the  mother  of  fourteen  children,  of 
whom  only  six  survive.  During  the  trials 
of  emigration  she  displayed  heroic  acts 
of  devotedness,  experienced  all  the  severe 
privations  of  exile,  and  bore  all  with 
astonishing  firmness  and  submission. 

Her  religious  and  political  convictions, 
joined  to  a  sacred  veneration  for  the  me- 
mory of  her  cherished  husband,  who  died 
in  Bath  in  1814  all  concurred  to  induce 
her  to  fix  her  residence  in  England,  where 
she  sought  refuge  in  the  year  1795,  after 
having  passed  a  few  years  in  Germany. 
It  was  by  these  considerations  that  she 
felt  herself  called  upon  to  make  the  sa- 
crifice of  family  interests  (interests,  never- 
theless, most  dear  to  her),  and  she  never 
more  saw  her  native  land. 

Sorelli,  Guido,  translator  of  "  Paradise 
Lost,"  at  Church  Place,  Piccadilly,  28th 

Starkey,  Thomas,  Esq.  of  Springwood, 
Huddersfield,  25th  May.  The  Leeds 
Mercury,  of  the  29th  May,  in  announcing 
this  melancholy  event,  thus  refers  to  the 
great  public  loss  sustained  in  the  death  of 
Mr.  Starkey  :  "  It  is  with  feelings  of 
sincere  regret  that  we  have  this  week  to 
announce  the  death  of  Thomas  Starkey, 
Esq.  one  of  the  West  Riding  Magistrates, 
which  took  place  at  3  o'clock  on  Tuesday 
afternoon,  at  his  residence  at  Springwood. 
Mr.  Starkey  we  believe  was  at  the  ma- 
nufactory at  Longroyd  Bridge,  (Starkey 
Brothers)  on  the  Tuesday  previous.  The 
immediate  cause  of  his  death  was  a 
virulent  attack  of  typhus  fever.  A  gloom 
has  thus  suddenly  been  cast  over  the 
town  as  his  loss  will  be  heavily  felt.  He 
was  an  active  and  judicious  magistrate, 
and  bore  the  character  of  dispensing 
justice  with  impartiality. "  The  deceased 
gentleman,  Thomas  Starkey  of  Spring- 
wood,  with  his  two  elder  brothers,  Wil- 
liam Starkey  of  Wakefield,  and  John 
Starkey,  Esq.  of  Thornton  Lodge,  J.  P., 
and  his  younger  brother,  Joseph  Starkey, 
Esq.  of  Heaton  Lodge,  near  Hudders- 
field, J.  P.,  were  the  four  sons  of 
the  late  John  Starkey,  Esq.  of  Wheat 
House,  Huddersfield,  by  Abigail,  his 
wife,  daughter  of  William  Dewhirst, 
Esq.  of  Warley,  co.  York,  and  descended 
from  a  branch  of  the  ancient  and  respect- 
able family  of  Starkies  of  Huntroyd,  co. 
Lancaster.  Mr.  Starkey  married  5  Oct. 
1830,  Charlotte,  dau.  of  William  Stan- 
ton,  Esq.  of  Throp  House,  Stroud,  and 
has  left  two  sons  and  four  daughters, 
herself  Stephenson,  John,  Esq.  at  Newark,  Notts, 

aged  81 ,  3rd  June. 

of  Stokes,  George,  Esq.  formerly  of  Col- 
chester, at  Tyndale  House,  Cheltenham, 
31st  May. 

Stuart  Frances,  second  daughter  of  the 
Hon.  and  Rev.  Andrew  Godfrey  Stuart, 
4th  June. 

Stuart,  Lady  Dudley,  second  daughter  of 
Lucien  Bonaparte,  Prince  of  Canino,  at 
Rome,  19th  May. 



Titley,  Eliza,  wife  of  the  Rev.  Peter  Tit  ley, 
at  Penloyn,  Llanrwst,  North  Wales,  16th 

Todd,  Maria  Caroline,  wife  of  Joseph 
Todd,  Esq.  of  Moulsey  Park,  Surrey, 
14th  June. 

Tulloch,  Lieut.  Donald,  Madras  Army,  son 
of  Col.  Tulloch,  C.B.,  Commissary- Ge- 
neral, Madras,  at  sea,  24th  July. 

Turner,  Mary  Anne,  wife  of  Edward  E 
Turner,  Esq.  of  Cannock,  co.  Stafford, 
7th  June. 

Watson,  Lieut.-Col.  Sir  Frederick,  K.T.S. 
This  gallant  officer  died  on  the  21st  May, 
in  Portland-place,  after  a  protracted  ill- 
ness, brought  on  by  his  services  in  the 
Peninsular  War.  Sir  F.  Watson  was 
present  at  most  of  the  battles  in  the  Pe- 
ninsular, viz. — Busaco,  Albuera,  Badajos 
Vittoria,  Pyrenees,  Nivelle,  Nive,  Campo 
Major,  Olivenca,  Alba  de  Tormes.  Pre- 
vious to  entering  the  Portuguese  service 
he  was  Captain  in  the  First  or  Roya 
Dragoons.  He  was  son  of  the  late  Lieut.- 
Col.  Christopher  Watson,  formerly  of  the 
Third,  or  King's  Own  Dragoons,  o: 
Westwood  House,  near  Colchester.  Hii 
remains  were  interred,  at  Kensall  Green 

Watts,  the|  &ev'  William,  A.M.  incumben 
of  Christ  Church,  St.  Giles-in-the- Fields 
llth  June. 

Wells,  Angela  Helen,  youngest  child  o 
Nathaniel  Wells,  Esq.  of  Piercefield,  co 
Monmouth,  aged  16,  lith  June. 

Welsted,  Sophia,  widow  of  the  late  Charles 
Welsted,  Esq.  of  Valentines,  Essex,  28th 

White,  Thomas,  Esq.  of  Mims  Hall,  South 
Mims,  Middlesex,  aged  46,  12th  June. 

Willoughby,  Robert,  Esq.  late  of  Kingsbury 
Cliff,  co.  Warwick,  aged  83,  25th  May. 

Wilmot,  Sir  John  Eardley  Eardley,  Bart, 
of  Berkswell  Hall,  co.  Warwick.  The 

death  of  this  gentleman,  subduing  all  pri- 
vate and  party  animosity,  has  called  forth 
an  universal   expression  of  regret.     The 
melancholy    event   occurred    at   Hobart 
Town,  on  the  3rd  February.     Sir  Eardley, 
only  son  of  John  Wilmot,  Esq.  of  Berks- 
well   Hall,  a  Master  in   Chancery,  and 
grandson  of  Sir  John  Eardley  Wilmot, 
Knt.  a  celebrated  lawyer,  at   one   time 
Lord  Chief  Justice  of  the  Common  Pleas, 
represented  a  branch  of  the  ancient  Der- 
byshire family  of  Wilmot,  of  Chaddesden, 
and  derived,  in  the  female  line,  from  the 
Eardleys,    of   Eardley,  in   Staffordshire. 
He  was  born  21st  February,  1783,  and 
married  twice.     By  his  first  wife,  Eliza- 
beth Emma,  daughter  of  C.  H.   Parry, 
M.D.  of  Bath,  he  leaves  a  large  family,  of 
which  the  eldest  son  is  the  present  Sir 
John   Eardley    Wilmot,  Bart.      By  his 
second  wife,  Elizabeth,  eldest  daughter  of 
Sir  Robert  Chester,  of  Bush  Hall,  Herts, 
Sir  Eardley  also  had  issue.     From  1 832 
to  1843,  he  sat  in  Parliament  for  Warwick- 
shire,  but  retired  in  the  latter  year,  on 
being     appointed      Governor     of     Van 
Diemen's  Land.     The  duties  of  that  office 
he  performed   until  1846,  when  he  was 
superseded   by  Charles  Joseph  Latrobe, 
Esq.      Previously  to  his  departure  from 
England,  the  late  Baronet  had  acted  as  a 
Deputy-Lieutenant  for  Warwickshire,  and 
was   for  several  years  the  able  and  re- 
spected Chairman  of  the  Quarter  Sessions. 
The  recent  debate  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons   explains    fully  the   particulars    of 
Sir  Eardley   Wilmot's    recal   from    his 

Wilson,    John   James,   Esq.     Surgeon,    of 
Dough ty-street,  15th  June. 

Wortham,  Cecil  Proctor,  Esq.  at    Madras, 
29th  March. 

Yates,  Francis,  Esq.  at  rAllrighton,    Salop, 
aged  81,  26th  May. 




Les  homines  apprennent  a  se  moderer  en  voyant  mourir  les  rois. 


COMMON  fame  has  not  only  done  much  injustice  to  the  memory  of  Richard 
III,  but  it  has  thrown  a  kind  of  delusive  halo  around  the  reputation  of  his 
successor,  HENRY  VII .  As  a  monarch  the  latter  was  decidedly  the  greater 
tyrant  of  the  two.  Shakespeare  has  made  the  world  believe  that  Henry  was 
a  hero,  but  in  reality  this  king  was  a  cold,  calculating  and  cruel  despot.  His 
avaricejmew  no  bounds  ;  and,  to  gratify  that  base  passion,  he  was  perpetu- 
ally oppressing  his  subjects  with  illegal  taxes,  fines,  and  other  arbitrary  ex- 
actions. So  barefaced  and  brutal  was  his  system  of  plunder,  that  his  son 
and  successor  was,  on  his  accession,  obliged  to  satisfy  the  clamour  of  the 
people  by  putting  to  death  Empson  and  Dudley,  the  agents  of  his  father's 
extortions.  Henry  VII's  treatment  of  his  relative,  the  unfortunate  Earl  of 
Warwick,  whom,  after  a  long  and  unjustifiable  incarceration,  he  caused  to 
be  judicially  murdered,  equals  any  charge  brought  against  his  predecessor, 
even  if  it  were  proved.  To  his  wife  and  children,  Henry  was  harsh  in  the 
extreme,  and  seems,  in  common  with  most  misers,  to  have  lost  all 
domestic  feeling,  except,  indeed,  in  the  advancement  of  his  own  fortune  and 
power  by  procuring  great  matrimonial  alliances  for  his  sons  and  daughters. 
His  anxiety  for  a  connection  with  the  crown  of  Spain,  led  to  his  compelling 
his  two  sons  in  succession  to  wed  Katherine  of  Arragon,  which  was  the 
fertile  cause  of  such  subsequent  misery.  The  death  of  Henry  VII  was 
characteristic  of  his  life.  It  occurred  just  as  he  was  meditating  a  second 
'marriage.  His  neglected  queen  had  some  time  previously  died  in  childbed, 
and  he  was  hesitating,  for  a  new  consort,  between  the  Queen- do  wager  of 
Naples,  and  the  Duchess- dowager  of  Savoy,  both  ladies  of  enormous 
wealth.  But  the  decline  of  his  health  put  an  end  to  all  such  thoughts  ;  and 
he  began  to  cast  his  eye  towards  that  future  existence,  which  the  iniquities 
and  severities  of  his  reign  rendered  a  very  dismal  prospect  to  him.  To 
allay  the  terrors  under  which  he  laboured,  he  endeavoured,  by  distributing 
alms,  and  founding  religious  houses,  to  make  atonement  for  his  crimes,  and 
to  purchase,  by  the  sacrifice  of  part  of  his  ill-gotten  treasures,  a  reconcilia- 
tion with  his  offended  Maker.  Remorse  even  seized  him,  at  intervals,  for 
the  abuse  of  his  authority  by  Empson  and  Dudley;  but  not  sufficient 
to  make  him  stop  the  rapacious  hand  of  those  oppressors.  Sir  William 

VOL.    IV.     NO.   XVI.  H 


Capel  was  again  fined  £2000  under  some  frivolous  pretence,  and  was  com- 
mitted to  the  Tower  for  daring  to  murmur  against  the  iniquity.  Harris,  an 
Alderman  of  London,  was  indicted,  and  died  of  vexation  before  his  trial 
came  to  an  issue.  Sir  Laurence  Ailmer,  who  had  been  Mayor,  and  his  two 
sheriffs,  were  condemned  in  heavy  fines,  and  sent  to  prison  till  they  made 
payment.  The  King*  gave  countenance  to  all  these  oppressions  ;  till  death, 
by  its  nearer  approaches,  impressed  new  terrors  upon  him ;  in  his  final  and 
fearful  agony  he  ordered,  by  a  general'  clause  in  his  will,  that  restitution 
should  be  made  to  all  those  whom  he  had  injured.  He  died  of  a  con- 
sumption, April  22,  1509,  at  his  favourite  palace  of  Richmond,  after 
a  reign  of  twenty-three  years  and  eight  months,  in  the  fifty-second  year  of 
his  age. 

One  reason  perhaps  for  the  leniency  of  posterity  with  regard  to  the  me- 
mory of  Henry  VII,  is  that  his  misdeeds  sank  into  insignificance  and  oblivion, 
before  the  surpassing  horrors  of  the  succeeding  reign.  Yet  it  has  often 
struck  us  as  singular,  that  all  the  English  historians,*  of  whatever  creed 
or  party,  can  look  as  calmly  as  they  do  on  the  character  and  conduct 
of  HENRY  VIII,  a  prince  whose  career  presents  one  of  the  darkest 
eras  of  atrocity  in  the  annals  of  the  world.  Vain  would  it  be  to  seek 
in  the  catalogue  of  Christian  monarchs  for  another  monster  like  this  :  even 
among  the  regal  and  imperial  enormities  of  Pagan  antiquity,  his  equal  can 
scarcely  be  found.  He  had  the  extreme  cruelty  of  Tiberius,  without  his 
political  sagacity.  He  was  a  domestic  murderer  like  Nero,  whom  he 
exceeded  in  treachery  and  lust ;  but  he  was  sane,  and  the  Roman  was 
a  lunatic.  Herod  Agrippa  is  perhaps  Henry's  nearest  prototype,  yet  even 
Herod  evinced  some  feeling  for  others  beyond  the  satisfaction  of  his 
own  inordinate  selfishness :  Henry  never  did.  Herod  bitterly  mourned 
Mariamne  slain  in  his  wrath.  The  base  Judean  did  at  least  admit  that  he  had 

thrown  a  pearl  away 

Richer  than  all  his  tribe. 

There  is  no  instance  recorded  of  Henry's  showing  a  moment's  grief  or 
regret  for  the  death  of  wife,  relative,  friend,  or  any  other  human  being, 
however  unjustly  or  cruelly  sacrificed.  The  most  extraordinary  part  of  his 
dark  history,  is  that  Christian  England,  previously  so  sensitive  to  crimes 
even  suspected  to  be  committed  by  its  sovereigns,  and  at  all  times  naturally 
averse  to  cruelty,  should  for  thirty- seven  years  patiently  suffer  its  territory 
to  become  the  arena  of  a  series  of  atrocities  which  would  have  even  made 
Pagan  Rome  rise  against  the  miscreant  who  was  the  perpetrator  of  them. 
Unhappily  moreover,  we  find  the  name  of  Henry  connected  with  religion, 
and  it  is  probably  not  a  little  on  this  account,  that  history  deals  so  tenderly 
with  his  infamy ;  for  Henry,  according  to  the  passion  of  the  moment, 
favoured  one  or  other  of  the  fierce  polemical  factions  that  were  then  dis- 
tracting Europe,  and  each  in  its  turn  gave  out  something'  in  his  praise. 
Thus  it  is  curious  to  observe  the  Protestant  writers  speaking  of  Henry's 
munificence  and  sagacity  during  the  ascendency  of  the  monastery- destroy  ing 
Cromwell;  while  even  Dr.  Lingard,  the  Catholic  annalist,  says  Henry 
was  quite  a  virtuous  person  as  long  as  Wolsey  was  in  power.  It  is  an 
insult  to  religion  to  base  its  sacred  cause  for  an  instant,  be  the  sect  what  it 
may,  upon  any  thing  done  by  this  king,  alike  the  enemy  of  God  and  man. 
But  we  must  now  pass  over  his  dreadful  life  to  his  no  less  awful  demise. 

*  The  intelligent  Mr.  Keightley,  a  stanch  Protestant,  is  perhaps  the  only  exception. 
In  his  History  of  England,  Henry  is  rightly  dealt  with. 


The  termination  of  Henry  VIIFs  existence  had  much  in  it,  which  rer 
sembled  the  deaths  of  Herod  and  Tiberius.  As  with  the  Jewish  and 
the  Roman  tyrants,  his  body  had  become,  from  his  excesses,  one  mass  of 
foul  disease  and  putrid  corruption,  and  like  Herod,  Henry  was  committing 
murder  as  he  lay  on  his  death  bed.  Herod,  it  is  well  known,  beside 
having  his  son  executed  five  days  before  he  expired,  ordered  that  the 
principal  men  of  the  Hebrew  nation  should  be  enclosed  in  the  Hippodrome, 
and  that,  while  he  was  giving  up  the  ghost,  they  should  be  slaughtered, 
to  ensure  a  general  lamentation  among  his  people  when  he  was  dead.  How 
nearly  similar  was  the  conduct  of  Henry.  Nine  days  before  he  breathed 
his  last,  he  caused  the  barbarous  execution  of  his  relative  the  gallant, 
gentle  Earl  of  Surrey,  who  ranks  among  the  last  ornaments  of  England's  chi- 
valry, and  the  first  of  her  poets.  The  charge  against  Surrey  was  that  he  had 
quartered  on  his  shield  (as  he  had  a  perfect  right  to  do)  the  arms  of  Edward 
the  Confessor.  On  the  same  accusation,  Surrey's  father,  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  the  first  man  in  the  realm,  was  speedily  attainted  by  an  obsequious 
parliament,  and  the  tyrant,  while  at  the  verge  of  his  mortal  agony,  on  the 
morning  of  his  last  day,  issued  orders  that  the  aged  Duke  should  be 
beheaded.  Providence,  however,  interfered  to  prevent  both  the  ancient, 
and  the  more  modern  accumulation  of  atrocity.  The  prisoners  of  the 
Hippodrome,  and  the  inmate  of  the  Tower,  were  alike  rescued  by  the  deaths 
of  their  respective  oppressors.  The  actual  demise  of  Henry,  occurred 
thus.  The  king  had  lain  for  some  time  in  mortal  sickness,  apparently 
unconscious  and  regardless  of  his  immediate  danger,  but  for  several  days 
all  those  near  him  plainly  saw  his  end  approaching.  He  was  become  so 
froward  and  fierce,  that  no  one  durst  inform  him  of  his  condition ;  and 
as  some  persons  during  this  reign  had  suffered  as  traitors  for  foretelling  the 
king's  death,  every  one  was  afraid,  lest  in  the  transports  of  his  fury  he  might, 
on  this  pretence,  punish  capitally  the  author  of  such  friendly  intelligence. 
At  last  Sir  Anthony  Denny  ventured  to  disclose  to  him  the  fatal  secret, 
exhorted  him  to  prepare  for  the  fate  which  was  awaiting  him,  and 
advised  him  to  send  for  Archbishop  Cranmer.  He  heard  the  announce- 
ment unmoved,  and  said,  "let  me  sleep  awhile."  On' awaking,  he 
dispatched  a  messenger  for  Cranmer,  but  before  the  prelate  arrived  he  was 
speechless,  though  he  still  seemed  to  retain  his  senses. 

Cranmer  implored  him  to  give  some  sign  of  his  dying  in  the  faith  of 
Christ :  it  is  said  that  he  squeezed  the  Archbishop's  hand,  but  even  this 
is  a  matter  of  doubt :  he  expired  just  as  the  exhortation  fell  from 
Cranmer's  lips.  And  this  was  the  end  of  a  king,  who  had  indeed  never 
spared  man  in  his  anger,  nor  woman  in  his  lust.  He  died  in  the  fifty-sixth 
year  of  his  age  and  the  thirty- eighth  of  his  reign :  his  life  had  been  to 
himself  one  undeviating  course  of  good  fortune,  which  may  be  accounted 
for  by  the  fearful  consideration  that  crimes  such  as  his  are  too  heavy  to 
meet  with  any  earthly  retribution.  By  his  will,  Henry  VIII  left  money  for 
masses  to  be  said  for  delivering  his  soul  from  purgatory. 

EDWARD  VI,  whose  youth,  and  whose  mental  incapacity  consequent  upon 
continual  sickness  can  be  the  only  excuses  for  the  executions  of  his  two  uncles, 
and  the  unjust  endeavour  to  deprive  his  sisters  of  the  Crown,  lived,  and  died 
wretchedly.  After  a  complete  series  of  maladies,  which  ended  in  consump- 
tion, Edward's  demise  was  in  this  manner.  When  the  settlement,  setting 
the  Princesses  Mary  and  Elizabeth  aside  was  made,  with  so  many  inauspi- 
cious circumstances,  Edward  visibly  declined  every  day ;  and  small  hopes 
were  entertained  of  his  recovery.  To  make  matters  worse,  his  physicians 
were  dismissed  by  Northumberland's  advice,  and  an  order  of  council ; 

H  2 


he  was  put  into  the  hands  of  an  ignorant  woman,  who  undertook  .in  a  little 
time  to  restore  him  to  his  former  state  of  health.  After  the  use  of  her 
medicines,  all  the  bad  symptoms  increased  to  the  most  violent  degree : 
he  felt  a  difficulty  of  speech  and  breathing  ;  his  pulse  failed,  his  legs 
swelled,  his  colour  became  livid;  and  many  other  symptoms  appeared 
of  his  approaching  end.  He  expired  at  Greenwich,  July  6,  1553,  in 
the  sixteenth  year  of  his  age,  and  the  seventh  of  his  reign. 

We  have  already  alluded  to  MARY  I  as  the  most  calumniated  monarch  in 
English  history,  and  we  could  easily  show  that  such  is  the  fact ;  but  the 
discussion  would  be  here  too  long  and  out  of  place.  Suffice  it  to  say  that 
the  two  great  offences  charged  against  her,  the  death  of  Lady  Jane  Grey, 
and  the  persecution  for  heresy  may  be  thus  explained.  So  far  from 
hurrying  the  fate  of  Lady  Jane  Grey,  who,-  be  it  remembered,  was 
attainted  according  to  strict  course  of  law,  Mary  actually  personally  inter- 
fered with  her  Ministers  to  save  her  life,  and  after  pardoning  her  father, 
the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  merely  retained  her  under  her  sentence  in  the  Tower. 
But  Suffolk,  regardless  of  the  Queen's  clemency,  instantly  raised  another 
rebellion  against  her,  and  then  it  became  a  matter  of  salvation  with  Mary's 
government  to  allow  the  law  to  take  its  course  against  the  unfortunate 
Jane.  Mary  was  reluctant  to  the  last,  but  she  lived  at  a  period  when  life 
was  very  easily  sacrificed,  and  she  was  overpersuaded.  As  to  the  persecu- 
tion, even  without  regard  to  the  gross  exaggeration  of  the  real  facts,  it  was 
owing  not  to  the  Queen,  but  to  the  bloody  nature  of  the  religious  contest 
then  going  on.  Toleration  was  unknown  at  the  time  to  Catholic  or  Protes- 
tant :  both  sides  preached  and  practised  the  burning  of  their  opponents, 
and  hundreds  upon  hundreds  became  the  miserable  victims  of  a  polemic 
fury  which  profaned  Christianity  and  religion.  These  dreadful  burnings 
commenced  more  than  a  century  and  a  half  before  Queen  Mary's  reign. 
The  law  which  sanctioned  them  was  an  act  of  Henry  IV,  and  his  son  the 
great  Henry  V,  whose  memory  is  held  so  dear,  put  it  often  in  force. 
Numbers  perished  by  fire  under  Henry  VIII  and  Edward  VI,  and  other 
succeeding  kings.  Burning,  as  a  punishment,  was  not  actually  abolished 
until  the  reign  of  George  III.  A  woman  named  Catherine  Hayes  was 
burnt  alive  in  1726,  for  the  murder  of  her  husband,  the  crime  being  deemed 
petty  treason.  The  real  truth  why  the  horrid  custom  is  more  noticed 
during  Mary's  rule  is,  that  she,  like  Richard  III,  was  succeeded  by 
enemies,  whose  object  was  to  amplify  and  extend  every  accusation  against 
her.  The  persecution  was  the  cruel  madness  of  the  age,  and  should 
no  more  be  ascribed  to  Mary,  than  the  executions  of  witches,  which  hap- 
pened in  his  reign,  to  Charles  II.  But  our  subject  lies  with  the  death  and 
not  the  life  of  Mary.  Her  reign  was  as  short  as  it  was  sad. 

Her  health  had  always  been  delicate  ;  from  the  time  of  her  first  supposed 
pregnancy  she  was  afflicted  with  frequent  and  obstinate  maladies.  Tears  no 
longer  afforded  her  relief  from  the  depression  of  her  spirits ;  and  the  re- 
peated loss  of  blood,  by  the  advise  of  her  physicians,  had  rendered  her  pale, 
languid,  and  emaciated.  Nor  was  her  mind  more  at  ease  than  her  body. 
The  exiles  from  Geneva,  by  the  number  and  virulence  of  their  libels,  threat- 
ening her  life,  kept  her  in  a  constant  state  of  fear  and  irritation ;  and  to 
other  causes  of  anxiety,  had  been  added  the  insalubrity  of  the  season  and 
the  loss  of  Calais.  In  August  she  experienced  a  slight  febrile  indisposition 
at  Hampton  Court,  and  immediately  removed  to  St.  James's.  It  was 
soon  ascertained  that  her  disease  was  the  same  fever  which  had  proved  fatal 
to  thousands  of  her  subjects  ;  and,  though  she  languished  for  three  months, 


with  several  alterations  of  improvement  and  relapse,  she  never  recovered 
sufficient  to  leave  her  chamber.  During  this  long  confinement,  Mary 
edified  all  around  her  by  her  piety,  and  her  resignation  to  the  will  of 
Providence.  On  the  morning  of  her  death,  Mass  was  celebrated  in  her 
chamber.  She  was  perfectly  sensible,  and  expired  a  few  minutes  before 
the  conclusion,  on  the  17th  November,  1558.  Her  friend  and  kins- 
man, Cardinal  Pole,  who  had  long  been  confined  with  a  fever,  survived 
her  only  twenty-two  hours.  He  had  reached  his  fifty-ninth,  she  her  forty- 
second  year. 

One  proof  of  the  fierceness  of  the  feeling  raised  against  Mary,  is  that 
no  credit  is  given  to  her  for  an  exclamation  with  regard  to  the  loss  of 
Calais,  which  she  made  on  her  death  bed,  and  which  evinced  how  acutely 
she  felt  aught  that  diminished  the  greatness  of  England.  ' '  The  name 
of  Calais"  she  said  "will  be  found  engraven  on  my  heart,  when  I  am 
dead."  Mary  is  the  only  sovereign  of  the  house  of  Tudor,  who  committed 
no  act  of  private  atrocity,  and  yet,  in  history,  even  her  father's  reputation 
compared  to  hers,  is  fair  and  good  to  see. 

The  great  Queen  ELIZABETH,  lost,  at  the  hour  of  death,  that  courage 
and  fortitude  which  so  characterised  her  life :  yet,  unlike  her  father, 
she  did  give  proof  that  she  possessed  a  conscience.  Passion  or  policy  had 
led  her  to  perpetrate  many  cruelties.  The  murder  of  poor  Mary  Stuart  is 
the  worst  crime  recorded,  on  clear  testimony,  against  the  crown  of  England  ; 
and  one  cannot  but  view  as  a  natural  consequence  the  dying  terrors  of  the 
guilty  party,  even  though  a  person  as  sagacious,  and  as  strong  minded 
as  Elizabeth  really  was.  The  fairest,  and  most  graphic  account  of  this 
mighty  sovereign's  demise,  is  that  given  by  Lingard,  who,  however,  rejects 
as  apocryphal  the  well  known  story  of  the  ring,  said  to  have  been  sent  by 
the  Earl  of  Essex  through  the  Countess  of  Nottingham,  to  Elizabeth,  but 
not  delivered  by  the  Countess,  who  revealed  her  treachery  on  her  death  bed. 
According  to  Dr.  Lingard,  the  termination  of  the  Queen's  life  is  thus  reported. 

Elizabeth  had  surprised  the  nations  of  Europe  by  the  splendour  of 
her  course  :  she.  was  destined  to  close  the  evening  of  her  life  in  gloom  and 
sorrow.  The  bodily  infirmities  which  she  suffered  may  have  been  the  con- 
quences  of  age ;  her  mental  afflictions  are  usually  traced  by  historians  to 
i egret  for  the  execution  of  Essex.  That  she  occasionally  bewailed  his  fate, 
that  she  accused  herself  of  precipitation  and  cruelty,  is  not  improbable  :  but 
there  were  disclosures  in  his  confession,  to  which  her  subsequent  melancholy 
may  with  great  probability  be  ascribed.  From  that  document  she  learned 
the  unwelcome  and  distressing  truth,  that  she  had  lived  too  long  ;  that  her 
favourites  looked  with  impatience  to  the  moments  which  would  free  them 
from  her  control ;  and  that  the  very  men  on  whose  loyalty  she  had  hitherto 
reposed  with  confidence,  had  already  proved  unfaithful  to  her.  She  became 
pensive  and  taciturn ;  she  sate  whole  days  by  herself,  indulging  in  the  most 
gloomy  reflections  ;  every  rumour  agitated  her  with  new  and  imaginary 
terrors ;  and  the  solitude  of  her  court,  the  opposition  of  the  commons 
to  her  prerogative,  and  the  silence  of  the  citizens  when  she  appeared  in 
public,  were  taken  by  her  for  proofs  that  she  had  survived  her  popularity, 
and  was  become  an  object  of  aversion  to  her  subjects.  Under  these 
impressions,  she  assured  the  French  ambassador  that  she  had  grown  weary 
of  her  very  existence. 

Sir  John  Harrington,  her  godson,  who  visited  the  court  about  seven 
months  after  the  death  of  Essex,  has  described,  in  a  private  letter,  the  state 


in  which  he  found  the  Queen.  She  was  altered  in  her  features,  and  reduced 
to  a  skeleton.  Her  food  was  nothing  but  manchet  bread  and  succory 
pottage.  Her  taste  for  dress  was  gone.  She  had  not  changed  her  clothes 
for  many  days.  Nothing  could  please  her ;  she  was  the  torment  of  the 
ladies  who  waited  on  her  person.  She  stamped  with  her  feet,  and  swore 
violently  at  the  objects  of  her  anger.  For  her  protection  she  had  ordered 
a  sword  to  be  placed  by  her  table,  which  she  often  took  in  her  hand,  and 
thrust  with  violence  into  the  tapestry  of  her  chamber.  About  a  year  later  Sir 
John  returned  to  the  palace,  and  was  admitted  to  her  presence.  "  I  found 
her,"  he  says,  "  in  a  most  pitiable  state.  She  bade  the  Archbishop  ask  me, 
if  I  had  seen  Tyrone.  I  replied,  with  reverence,  that  I  had  seen  him  with 
the  Lord  Deputy.  She  looked  up  with  much  choler  and  grief  in  her 
countenance,  and  said,  '  O,  now  it  mindeth  me,  that  you  was  one  who  saw 
this  man  elsewhere;'  and  hereat  she  dropped  a  tear,  and  smote  her  bosom. 
She  held  in  her  hand  a  golden  cup,  which  she  often  put  to  her  lips  :  but, 
in  truth,  her  heart  seemed  too  full  to  need  more  filling." 

In  January  she  was  troubled  with  a  cold,  and  about  the  end  of  the 
month  removed,  on  a  wet  and  stormy  day,  from  Westminster  to  Richmond. 
Her  indisposition  increased :  but,  with  her  characteristic  obstinacy,  she 
refused  the  advice  of  her  physicians.  Loss  of  appetite  was  accompanied 
with  lowness  of  spirits,  and  to  add  to  her  distress,  it  chanced  that  her 
intimate  friend,  the  Countess  of  Nottingham,  died.  Elizabeth  now  spent 
her  days  and  nights  in  sighs  and  tears ;  or,  if  she  condescended  to  speak, 
she  always  chose  some  unpleasant  and  irritating  subject ;  the  treason  and 
execution  of  Essex,  or  the  reported  project  of  marrying  the  Lady  Arabella 
into  the  family  of  Lord  Hertford,  or  the  war  in  Ireland  and  the  pardon  of 
Tyrone.  In  the  first  week  of  March  all  the  symptoms  of  her  disorder 
were  considerably  aggravated  :  she  lay  during  some  hours  in  a  state  of 
stupour,  rallied  for  a  day  or  two,  and  then  relapsed.  The  council,  having 
learned  from  the  physicians  that  her  recovery  was  hopeless,  prepared  to 
fulfil  their  engagements  with  the  King  of  Scots,  by  providing  for  his  peace- 
able succession  to  the  throne.  The  Lord  Admiral,  the  Lord  Keeper,  and 
the  Secretary,  remained  with  the  Queen  at  Richmond  :  the  others  repaired 
to  Whitehall.  Orders  were  issued  for  the  immediate  arrest  and  transpor- 
tation to  Holland  of  all  vagrants  and  unknown  persons  found  in  London  or 
Westminster  ;  a  guard  was  posted  at  the  exchequer ;  the  great  horses  were 
brought  up  from  Reading  ;  the  court  was  supplied  with  arms  and  ammuni- 
tion ;  and  several  gentlemen,  "  hunger- starved  for  innovation,"  and  there- 
fore objects  of  suspicion,  were  conveyed  prisoners  to  the  Tower. 

The  Queen,  during  the  paroxysms  of  her  disorder,  had  been  alarmed  at 
the  frightful  phantoms  conjured  up  by  her  imagination.  At  length  she 
obstinately  refused  to  return  to  her  bed  ;  and  sate  both  day  and  night  on  a 
stool  bolstered  up  with  cushions,  having  her  finger  in  her  mouth  and  her 
eyes  fixed  on  the  floor,  seldom  condescending  to  speak,  and  rejecting  every 
offer  of  nourishment.  The  bishops  and  the  lords  of  the  council  advised  and 
entreated  in  vain.  For  them  all,  with  the  exception  of  the  Lord  Admiral, 
she  expressed  the  most  profound  contempt.  He  was  of  her  own  blood  : 
from  him  she  consented  to  accept  a  basin  of  broth  :  but  when  he  urged  her 
to  return  to  her  bed,  she  replied  that,  if  he  had  seen  what  she  saw  there, 
he  would  never  make  the  request.  To  Cecil,  who  asked  her  if  she  had 
seen  spirits,  she  answered,  that  it  was  an  idle  question  beneath  her  notice. 
He  insisted  that  she  must  go  to  bed,  if  it  were  only  to  satisfy  her  people. 
"Must?"  she  exclaimed,  "is  must  a  word  to  be  addressed  to  Princes? 


Little  man,  little  man,  thy  father,  if  he  had  been  alive,  durst  not  have  used 
that  word  :  but  thou  art  grown  presumptuous  because  thou  knowest  that  I 
shall  die."  Ordering  the  others  to  depart,  she  called  the  Lord  Admiral  to 
her,  saying  in  a  piteous  tone,  "  my  Lord,  I  am  tied  with  an  iron  collar  about 
my  neck."  He  sought  to  console  her,  but  she  replied,  "  no :  I  am  tied, 
and  the  case  is  altered  with  me." 

At  the  commencement  of  her  illness  the  Queen  had  been  heard  to  say 
that  she  would  leave  the  Crown  to  the  right  heir:  it  was  now  deemed 
advisable  to  elicit  from  her  a  less  equivocal  declaration  on  behalf  of  the 
King  of  Scots.  On  the  last  night  of  her  life  the  three  lords  waited 
upon  her ;  and,  if  we  may  believe  the  report  circulated  by  their  partisans, 
received  a  favourable  answer.  But  the  maid  of  honour  who  was  present 
has  left  us  a  very  different  tale.  According  to  her  narrative  the  persons 
first  mentioned  to  the  Queen  by  the  Lords  were  the  King  of  France  and  the 
King  of  Scotland.  The  Queen  neither  spoke  nor  stirred.  The  third  name 
was  that  of  the  Lord  Beau  champ.  At  the  sound  her  spirit  was  roused ; 
and  she  hastily  replied,  "  I  will  have  no  rascal's  son  in  my  seat,"  They 
were  the  last  words  which  she  uttered.  She  relapsed  into  a  state  of  insen- 
sibility, and  at  three  the  next  morning  tranquilly  breathed  her  last.  This 
occurred  on  the  24th  March,  1603,  in  the  seventieth  year  of  her  age  and, 
the  forty- sixth  of  her  reign.  By  six  o'clock  the  same  day,  the  lords  from 
Richmond  joined  those  in  London ;  and  a  resolution  was  taken  to  proclaim 
James  as  heir  to  the  Queen,  both  by  proximity  of  blood  and  by  her  own 
appointment  on  her  death-bed. 

Providence  points  out  an  awe-inspiring  lesson  in  the  deaths  of  the  three 
principal  Sovereigns  of  the  house  of  Tudor — Henry  VII,  Henry  VIII,  and 
Elizabeth.  Unvarying  prosperity  had  attended  them  while  living :  the 
avarice  of  the  one,  the  luxury  of  the  other,  and  the  ambition  of  the  third, 
had  been  gratified  even  to  their  utmost  hope  :  their  cups  of  vicious  desires 
had  overflowed  the  brim,  and  yet,  when  dying  how  utterly  miserable  they 
were  !  What  objects  of  wretchedness  and  horror  did  they  become  when 
the  hand  of  God  fell  upon  them !  The  peasant,  nay  the  meanest  of  man- 
kind— the  very  beggar  whose  soul  might  perhaps  have  to  wing  its  flight 
from  a  dunghill — would  have  shrunk  in  terror  from  .regal  felicity  such  as 
theirs,  coupled  with  such  conclusions.  The  words  of  the  sacred  orator  we 
have  quoted  above  are,  if  ever,  to  have  signification  here.  Men  should  in- 
deed learn  moderation  when  they  know  how  these  Tudor  monarchs  died. 




SPAIN,  how  art  thou  fallen  !  Thou  who  but  a  few  hundred  years  ago  stoodst 
in  the  very  front  of  Europe,  —  the  conqueror  and  civilised  ruler  of  vast  na- 
tions that  had  oceans  between  them  ;  thou,  the  arbiter  of  all  chivalry,  rank, 
gentility,  courtesy,  and  refinement  ;  —  a  potentate,  too,  in  literature,  without 
which  no  nation  can  be  great,  —  the  works  of  thy  Calderon,  and  De  Vega, 
and  Cervantes,  the  delight  and  talk  of  the  universe.  Thus,  indeed,  thou 
wast  ;  —  and  what  art  thou  now  ? 

O  what  a  noble  state  is  here  overthrown  ! 

The  courtier's,  soldier's,  scholar's,  eye,  tongue,  sword  : 

Th'  expectancy  and  rose  of  the  fair  world, 

The  glass  of  fashion,  and  the  mould  of  form, 

Th'  observ'd  of  all  observers  !  quite,  quite  down  ! 

A  horrid  civil  warfare,  which,  since  the  period  of  the  contest  for  the 
succession  in  the  beginning  of  the  last  century,  down  to  the  present  time, 
has  continued  to  rage  with  scarcely  an  interval  of  peace,  proves  even  more 
detrimental  to  the  literary  than  to  the  political  greatness  of  Spain.  Writing, 
beyond  the  bombastic  and  virulent  articles  in  the  newspapers,  and  some 
trashy  publications,  such  as  tales  and  novels,  contemptible  in  style  and  sub- 
ject, appears  now  obsolete  in  this  devoted  country.  Yet  this  is  nowise  owing 
to  the  mental  incapability  of  the  people  of  Spain;  The  natural  character- 
istics of  dignified  thought,  brilliant  and  varied  imagination,  and  ready 
humour,  remain  as  strong  as  ever.  But  it  is  the  war,  and,  we  maintain,  the 
war  alone,  which  effects  this  intellectual  desolation.  In  strong  proof  of 
such  being  the  case,  the  romances  to  which  we  are  now  going  to  allude, 
and  which  are  the  only  two  that  do  credit  to  recent  letters  in  Spain,  were 
brought  out  at  times  when  peace  shed  momentary  and  flickering  rays  of  its 
benign  influence  over  the  land  of  Castile.  The  first  of  these  in  priority  of 
publication  is  "  El  Conde  Candespina,  Novela  historica  original,"  which 
issued  from  the  press  of  Madrid  in  1832.  Its  author  is  Don  Patricio  de  la 
Escosura,  then  an  alferez  or  ensign  of  artillery  in  the  royal  guard.  This 
romance,  though,  as  may  easily  be  supposed,  inferior  to  similar  contemporary 
productions  in  this  country,  or  in  France  or  Germany,  is  a  tale  of  no  incon- 
siderable merit.  The  language  is  good,  the  characters  are  very  well  drawn, 
many  of  the  scenes  are  lively,  and  the  whole  has  an  agreeable  tone  of  nation- 
ality. The  story  dates  at  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century  :  it  is  founded 
upon  the  fierce  dissensions  of  Urraca,  Queen  of  Castile  and  Leon,  and  her 
second  husband,  Alfonso,  King  of  Arragon.  The  hero  of  the  narrative, 
Don  Gomez,  Conde  de  Candespina,  had  loved  Urraca  prior  to  this  unfor- 
tunate second  marriage,  and  had  been  recommended,  although  unsuccessfully 
by  the  assembled  nobility  of  the  kingdom,  as  a  consort  for  the  heiress  Urraca, 
more  agreeable  to  her  future  subjects  than  a  foreigner.  During  her  misera- 
ble wedlock  with  the  King  of  Arrugon,  Don  Gomez  is  her  faithful  and  zeal- 
ous cavalier,  repeatedly  delivering  her  from  Don  Alfonso's  tyranny  ;  he, 
however,  conceals  his  undying  passion  until  after  her  divorce  on  the 


ground  of  consanguinity,  when  he  contends  for  her  love  with  Don"  Pedro, 
Conde  de  Lara,  who  had  not  waited  for  the  sentence  that  made  his  suit 
lawful,  to  seek  the  Queen's  hand  by  flattering  her  vanity.  Of  the  levity  and 
self-complacency  of  her  Majesty,  the  following  scene  is  an  amusing  and 
happy  illustration.  Candespina  has,  with  a  very  few  assistants,  surprised 
the  Arragonese  castle  in  which  Donna  Urraca  with  a  favourite  maid  of  honour, 
Leonora  Guzman,  was  kept  prisoner  by  her  husband,  who  would  arrogate  all 
authority  in  her  dominions.  The  Conde  has  released  the  Queen,  and  with 
equal  skill  and  secresy  escorts  her  safely  to  the  actual  frontiers  of  Castile. 
The  party  halts  for  the  last  time  in  an  Arragonese  village  : — 

"  The  house  that  appeared  the  least  miserable  was  selected,  and,  without 
further  ceremony,  Don  Gomez  sent  its  master  orders  to  receive  the  Queen, 
not  even  announcing  her  exalted  dignity.  The  plebeians  were  then  accus- 
tomed to  submit  voluntarily  or  perforce  to  the  will  of  the  nobles,  who  issued 
their  orders  at  the  point  of  the  spear,  and  did  not  wonder  at  their  exactions. 
Accordingly,  the  Arragonese  peasant  expressed  no  repugnance  to  affording 
the  hospitality  thus  courteously  solicited.  He  showed  his  guests  into  what 
was  called  a  saloon,  in  which  no  furniture  was  seen  beyond  a  coarse  deal 
table,  a  few  benches  of  the  same  material,  and  a  large  leather  chair,  that 
was  evidently  the  oldest  and  most  respectable  occupant  of  the  place.  In 
this  saloon  was  an  alcove,  containing  a  bed,  perfectly  in  keeping  with  the 
rest  of  the  furniture,  and  destined  for  Donna  Urraca. 

"  The  Queen,  upon  entering  this  miserable  hut,  cast  a  glance  around  her, 
and  a  deep  sigji  told  how  much  she  missed  the  splendour  of  a  court.  The 
Conde  understood  her,  but  unable  to  remedy  a  single  discomfort,  he  deemed 
it  wise  to  say  nothing  upon  such  subjects.  Engrossed  by  his  plan  respecting 
Don  Hernando's  mission,  he  scarcely  waited  till  she  had  seated  herself,  when 
he  bent  his  knee  before  her,  and  besought  her  permission  to  prefer  a  petition. 
Having  obtained  it,  he  set  forth,  clearly  but  concisely,  the  necessity  that 
existed  for  soliciting  the  aid  of  the  Senor  de  Najara,  to  escort  her  to  Burgos, 
where  Don  Alfonso's  partisans  bore  sway.  The  Queen  listened  to  his  dis- 
course with  evident  signs  of  impatience,  and  then  said,  "  Never  should  I 
have  believed  that  the  Queen  of  Castile  would  be  reduced  to  beg  the  aid 
of  her  vassals."  "  Your  highness,"  returned  Don  Gomez,  "has  not  under- 
stood, assuredly  by  my  fault,  what  I  meant  to  say.  There  is  no  question  of 
your  highness's  begging  any  one's  aid,  but  of  your  condescending  to  an- 
nounce your  arrival  in  your  own  dominions  to  the  Senor  de  Najara ;  an 
honour  which  will  pledge  that  cavalier  to  your  defence." — "  And  how, 
Conde,  do  I  chance  to  need  his  help  ?  Have  I  not  plenty  of  vassals  in 
Castile  as  noble,  as  powerful,  and  as  bold  as  he  ?" — "  Nobles  there  are  in 
Castile,  Senora,  many,  and  very  powerful ;  but  I  grieve  to  say,  not  all  per- 
haps". ..."  I  understand  you.  You  fear  that  they  may  adhere  to  the  King 
of  Arragon  in  preference  to  their  natural  Queen.  Whilst  they  believed 
me  his  lawful  wife,  whilst  1  was  absent,  they  may  perhaps  have  submitted 
to  Don  Alfonso.  But  when  I  present  myse'lf,  trust  me,  Conde,  there  will 
not  be  a  single  one  who  will  not  follow  my  standard." — "  So  it  should  be  ; 
so  I  would  have  it,  but  dare  not  rely  upon  its  being  so. — At  least  let  your 
highness  be  assured  that  it  were  imprudent  to  present  yourself  before 
Burgos,  without  a  stronger  escort  than  that  which  now  attends  you." — 
"  How  odd  you  are,  Conde  !  Do  you  think  the  force  with  which  you  under- 
took to  snatch  me  from  the  power  of  my  enemies  inadequate  to  escort  me 
in  mv  own  dominions." 


"  Donna  Leonora,  who  was  present  at  this  conversation,  perceived  the  just- 
ness of  the  Conde's  views  ;  but  saw,  at  the  same  time,  that  it  was  useless 
to  contend  against  the  Queen's  vanity  :  and  that,  unless  the  affair  could  be 
presented  to  her  under  a  totally  different  light,  she  would  never  consent  to 
that  which  was  indispensable  to  her  own  interest.  A  happy  expedient  suddenly 
occurred  to  her,  and,  at  the  risk  of  incurring  a  sharp  reproof,  she  ventured 
to  mix  in  the  conversation,  saying  to  the  Queen — "  If  your  highness  would 
permit  me. .  . .  " — "  How,  Leonora,  do  you  too  mistrust  the  loyalty  of  my 
vassals  ?" — "  No,  Senora,"  returned  the  dextrous  court  favourite  ;  "  so  far 
from  it,  I  hold  the  Conde's  fears  to  be  wholly  unfounded." — "Donna 
Leonora  !"  exclaimed  the  Conde,  provoked  to  see  the  lady  in  waiting  thus 
spontaneously  oppose  his  judicious  plan ;  "Donna  Leonora,  have  you  maturely 
considered. ..."  "  Let  her  speak,"  said  the  Queen,  interrupting  him. 
"  Go  on,  Leonora;  let  us  see  if  you  can  convince  this  good  cabellero." — 
"  I  cannot  think  it  necessary,"  said  Leonora,  "  even  to  refute  the  fears  which 
the  Conde  de  Candespina's  unbounded  zeal  has  led  him  to  conceive.  His 
lordship  will  pardon  me  if  I  think  him  wholly  in  error.  I  am  much  mis- 
taken if  there  be  a  single  noble  in  Castile  who  is  not  ready  to  sacrifice  him- 
self for  the  charms  of  Donna  Urraca." — "Not  for  my  charms,  since  I 
boast  none,  but  for  my  rights,  assuredly." — "  Your  highness  speaks  thus 
from  modesty,"  pursued  the  lady ;  "  but  at  any  rate,  your  highness  cannot 
need  the  Senor  de  Najara's  troops  for  your  protection ;  nevertheless  I  should 
not  hesitate  to  send  for  them." 

The  astonishment  of  the  Queen  and  the  Count,  at  this  strange  conclusion 
of  Donna  Leonora's  speech,  cannot  well  be  described.  The  first  looked  at 
her  angrily,  the  second  with  admiration ;  but  she,  who  had  foreseen  this, 
without  giving  them  time  to  recollect  themselves,  went  on  as  follows  : — 

"  If  your  highness  will  deign  to  listen  to  me  another  minute,  my  meaning 
will  appear.  I  repeat  that  the  Senor  de  Najara's  troops  are  unnecessary 
for  your  security  ;  but  does  your  highness  think  it  beseems  your  high  dig- 
nity to  enter  Burgos  in  the  same  litter  with  your  only  female  attendant, 
without  domestics,  without  more  guards  than  eight  or  nine,  assuredly  valiant 
soldiers,  but  whose  arms  are  still  blood-stained,  whose  garments  are  covered 
with  dust." 

"  In  very  truth,  Leonora,  you  are  in  the  right,  and  I  will  send  to  the  Senor 
de  Najara  to  come  and  escort  us  to  our  Castillian  capital.  Write  the  letter, 
Conde,  and  I  will  sign  it ;  but  take  care  to  express,  that  the  motive  of  our 
summons  is  suggested  by  Leonora,  and  not  the  slightest  distrust  of  the 
loyalty  of  our  vassals." 

The  following  is  a  more  bustling  portion  of  the  romance.  The  Queen  has, 
by  her  own  imprudence,  again  fallen  into  her  husband's  power  ;  and  two  of 
her  most  stanch  adherents,  Don  Hernando  de  Olea  and  Don  Diego  de 
Najara,  who  have  been  seized  with  her,  are  confined  in  prison.  Their  escape 
is  thus  related  : — 

"  The  gaolers  had  been  charged  to  visit  the  prison  frequently,  in  order  to 
prevent  the  captives  from  forcing  the  iron  bars  of  their  window,  or  organiz- 
ing any  other  mode  of  escape.  The  last  of  these  disagreeable  visits,  peri- 
odically paid  to  our  prisoners,  took  place  after  midnight.  The  gaolers  then 
entered,  each  with  his  lantern,  each  armed  with  a  sword  and  dagger;  they 
first  examined  the  chamber,  then  each  cautiously  approached  the  bed  of  one 
of  the  captives,  to  ascertain  that  he  really  occupied  it.  This  was  the  hour 


which  the  two  cabelleros  selected  for  the  execution  of  their  hazardous  enter- 


"  It  was  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  a  hoarse  sound  of  keys 
and  bolts  announced  the  approach  of  the  gaolers ;  the  heavy  door  creaked 
upon  its  hinges,  and  the  pale  scanty  light  of  the  lanterns  illumined  the 
chamber.  The  breathing  of  the  two  prisoners  was  equal  and  heavy,  and 
the  most  acute  observer  could  not  have  guessed  that  they  were  awake,  and 
struggling  between  hope  and  fear. 

"  They  sleep,"  said  the  Castilian  to  the  Aragonese  gaoler. — "  Would  it 
were  for  ever  !"  returned  he. — "  Silence,  lest  they  wake  and  hear." — "  What 
should  they  hear  ?  Don't  you  hear  how  Don  Diego  snores  ?" — "  Perhaps," 
rejoined  the  first,  without  interrupting  his  examination  of  the  apartment ; 
"  perhaps  your  wishes  may  be  quickly  fulfilled." — "  Oh !  Oh !  so  that". .  . . 
— "  'Tis  said  they  will  be  treated  as  they  deserve" — meaning  beheaded. 
— "Precisely." — "Dogs  !"  Hernando  was  about  to  exclaim,  but  fortunately 
restrained  himself. — "  The  sooner  the  better/^ subjoined  the  gaoler.  And  now, 
having  completed  their  examination  of  the  dungeon,  they,  according  to  custom, 
placed  their  lanterns  on  the  ground,  and  each  approached  the  bed  of  a  pri- 
soner.* *  *  The  two  gaolers,  satisfied  that  their  prisoners  were  asleep,  turned 
their  backs  to  the  beds,  to  resume  their  lanterns  and  depart.  But  at  this 
instant  both  gentlemen  sprang  upon  them,  with  unparalleled  celerity,  and 
strongly  grasping  their  throats,  brought  them  to  the  ground  before  they  could 
speak  a  word,  or  recover  from  the  alarm  'of  so  sudden  and  unexpected  an 
assault.  "  Utter  an  Oh  !  and  thou  art  dead,  wretch,"  said  Hernando  to  the 
Aragonese  gaoler,  placing  his  knee  upon  his  breast,  and  threatening  him  with 
his  own  dagger,  which,  as  well  as  his  cutlass,  he  had  just  snatched  from  him  j 
whilst  Don  Diego  held  his  opponent  under  equal  subjection,  telling  him  in  a 
calm  voice,  that  he  must  not  stir  if  he  wished  to  live.  "  All  resistance  is  use- 
less, slaves,"  said  Don  Diego.  "  Ye  are  already  disarmed,  and  under  any  cir- 
cumstances we  are  more  than  a  match  for  you."*  *  *  *  "  Keep  you  that  one 
under  control,"  he  added;  "and  as  for  you,  friend,  get  up  and  undress 
yourself  with  all  dispatch,  if  you  would  not  try  the  temper  of  your  own 

"The  confounded  and  trembling  gaoler  obeyed,  and  when  he  had  finished, 
Don  Diego  again  threw  him  upon  the  ground,  where  he  tied  his  hands  and 
feet  with  the  sheets  of  his  bed,  and  stopped  his  mouth  with  a  cloth,  so  that 
he  could  not  move  nor  call  for  help. 

"When  both  gaolers  were  thus  stripped  and  secured,  Don  Hernando  and 
Don  Diego  disguised  themselves  in  their  apparel,  not  forgetting  their  arms, 
and  still  less  the  bunch  of  keys  borne  by  one  of  them.  Then,  each  taking 
up  a  ready  prepared  and  concealed  bundle,  they  issued  from  their  dungeon, 
fervently  recommending  themselves  to  the  protection  of  God,  and  closing 
the  doors  with  all  the  precautions  usually  employed  to  insure  their  own  safe 
custody  by  the  gaolers,  whose  parts  they  were  now  to  play. 

"Neither  Hernando  nor  Diego  had  seen  anymore  of  the  prison  they  in- 
habited than  their  own  apartment,  except  upon  the  day  they  were  brought 
thither.  But  the  impression  then  made  upon  them  was  sufficient  to  enable 
them,  aided  by  the  lights  they  bore,  and  walking  very  cautious,  to  reach  the 
guard- room,  in  which  lay  the  soldiers  wrapt  in  untroubled  sleep.  They 


crossed  it,  unchallenged  by  the  sentry,  who,  from  their  dress,  believed  them 
to  be  the  gaolers,  and  issued  forth  into  the  street." 

The  continuation,  too  long  to  extract,  tells  how  they  were  enabled  to  quit 
the  town  and  reach  the  camp  of  Conde  de  Candespina.  These  samples 
show  the  tenour  and  the  style  of  this  work  by  the  Alferez  Escosura.  We 
now  pass  to  one  of  greater  note. 

The  romance  we  mean  is  "  Donna  Isabel  de  Solis,  Queen  of  Granada," 
Novela  Historica,  by  Don  Francisco  Martinez  de  la  Rosa.  But  before  we 
speak  of  the  book,  we  would  say  a  word  or  two  of  the  author.  There  is, 
perhaps,  no  more  sad  instance  of  the  cruel  effect  of  intestine  strife  upon 
literature  than  the  career  of  Martinez  de  la  Rosa.  Had  his  native  land  been 
any  other  civilised  country  of  Europe  than  Spain,  this  gifted  writer  would  have 
flourished  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  popularity,  encouragement,  and  honour  : 
in  Spain,  his  reward  has  been,  first  a  captivity  for  years  in  an  African  dun- 
geon, then  exile,  and  eventually  a  necessity  of  exclusive  devotion  to  politics 
to  obtain  that  rank  and  station  which  belonged  of  right  to  his  genius  and 
birth.  His  earlier  life  has  been  one  continued  struggle  to  revive  among  his 
countrymen  a  taste  for  learning  and  letters.  He  has  appeared  as  an  essayist, 
a  critic,  an  historian,  a  poet,  a  dramatist,  in  fine,  as  a  writer  in  every  style 
and  upon  every  subject.  All  his  productions  have  much  attraction,  and 
display  ability  of  a  superior  order.  In  proof  of  his  literary  qualities,  is  the 
fact  of  his  being  appreciated  by  a  people  capable  of  paying  tribute  to  merit. 
When  driven  from  his  country,  Martinez  de  la  Rosa  wrote  plays  in  France, 
in  the  French  language,  which  were  successfully  performed  at  Paris.  On 
his  return  to  Spain,  he  became  a  distinguished  partisan  of  that  side  mis- 
named Liberal,  in  a  country  where  liberality  has  no  existence.  Amid  his 
political  greatness,  however,  he  once  more  briefly  resumed  his  pen,  and  in 
1838 — a  period  when  there  seemed  some  chance  of  peace,  he  brought  out 
at  Madrid  the  romance  we  are  now  going  to  describe. 

The  subject  of  "  Donna  Isabel  de  Solis"  is  taken  from  the  later  years  of 
the  struggle  between  the  Spaniards  and  the  Moors  for  the  territory  of  Gra- 
nada. The  heroine  of  the  tale,  Donna  Isabel,  is  the  daughter  of  Don  Sancho 
le  Solis,  governor  of  Martos,  a  fortress  belonging  to  the  knights  of  Calatrava, 
nd  situate  on  the  very  verge  of  the  Moorish  dominions.  The  strange  and 
omantic  adventures  of  Isabel  occupy  the  narrative.  At  the  actual  moment 
.)f  her  marriage  with  a  noble  suitor,  Pedro  de  Venegas,  the  wedding  cere- 
mony is  surprised,  and  put  an  end  to,  by  an  irruption  of  the  Moors.  Isabel's 
father  and  lover  are  slain,  and  she  herself  is  carried  into  captivity.  Here, 
after  a  series  of  romantic  incidents,  she  is  induced,  by  her  passion  for  the 
Moorish  king,  Abu-1- Hassan,  to  forget  her  friends  and  country  ;  she  be- 
comes the  unhappy  bride  of  the  Mussulman  monarch,  and  ascends  the  throne 
of  Granada.  The  marriage  eventually  causes  the  fall  of  the  Moorish  power 
in  Spain.  This  romance,  as  a  mere  story,  is  not  one  of  very  great  interest : 
much  of  it  is  trivial  and  commonplace,  and  it  frequently  wants  animation. 
The  historical  portion,  though  fine  of  itself,  is  too  prolix  to  be  connected 
with  what  is  intended  to  be  a  stirring  and  adventurous  tale.  Still  the  work 
exhibits  much  striking  talent.  Many  of  the  descriptions  are  extremely 
beautiful,  especially'a  lively  and  truly  poetical  picture  which  the  author  gives 
of  the  city  of  Granada.  The  style  and  language  of  the  romance  through- 
out are  excellent ;  the  writing  is  pure  without  being  antiquated,  eloquent  and 
vigorous  without  affectation,  and  will  afford  no  small  gratification  to  those 
who  can  appreciate  the  stately  and  sonorous  dialect  of  Spain.  As  a  spcci- 


men  of  the  work,  we  give  the  following  account  of  the  fatal  interruption  to 
the  nuptials  of  Isabel  de  Solis  at  Martos  : — 

"The  night  fixed  for  the  espousals  at  length  arrived,  and  a  silent  calm 
succeeded  to  the  noise  and  bustle  of  the  day,  not  unlike  the  tranquillity  of 
the  ocean  after  a  storm .  The  followers  of  the  different  guests,  and  the 
menials  of  the  castle,  overcome  with  sleep  and  wine,  lay  dispersed  about 
the  courts  and  corridors.  A  few  only  of  the  principal  household  servants, 
and  the  ladies  and  knights  who  were  to  witness  the  ceremony,  stood  at  the 
door  of  the  chapel  in  anxious  expectation  of  the  signal.  A  low  murmur 
announced  at  last  the  arrival  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom  with  their  friends, 
and  immediately  afterwards  a  dozen  pages,  with  a  torch  of  wax  in  one  hand, 
and  the  cup  in  the  other,  were  seen  approaching  the  chapel  with  due  solem- 
nity and  composure.  They  were  followed  by  Isabel  and  Don  Pedro,  who, 
deeply  absorbed  in  their  own  thoughts,  walked  in  silence,  scarcely  daring  to 
raise  their  eyes  from  the  ground.  Not  so  the  Commendador,  who,  with 
Don  Alonso  de  Cordova  and  the  Senor  de  Zuheros,  walked  with  head  erect 
and  cheerful  countenance  ;  the  cortege  being  closed  by  Isabel's  handmaidens, 
wrapt  up  in  mantles,  and  by  a  few  favoured  esquires  who  had,  by  dint  of 
entreaty,  obtained  this  signal  distinction. 

"  The  chapel  of  the  castle  was  small  and  dark,  and  had'only  one  nave  ;  the 
ceiling  was  of  carved  walnut,,  the  altar  adorned  with  wooden  images,  placed 
in  gilt  niches.  But  the  antiquity  of  the  retreat,  and  its  rude  ornaments, 
raised  the  soul  above  worldly  contemplation,  and  inspired  sweet  and  melan- 
choly reveries.  The  idea  that  there,  under  the  marble  flags  with  which  the 
chapel  was  paved,  many  of  the  ancestors  of  the  Commendador  slept  in 
peace,  their  ashes  mingled  with  the  earth  redeemed  by  them  from  the 
Moors,  and  their  bodies  lying  under  the  altars  which  they  had  in  life  defended, 
contributed  not  a  little  to  impress  the  mind  with  religious  feelings.  In  the 
centre  of  the  chapel,  a  foot  above  ground,  rose  a  sepulchre,  on  which  was 
coarsely  carved  the  figure  of  a  young  woman,  with  the  hands  crossed  over 
the  breast,  the  feet  joined,  and  the  face  looking  up  to  heaven.  It  was  that 
of  the  mother  of  Isabel ;  and  the  Commendador  felt  a  degree  of  consola- 
tion mixed  with  sorrow,  in  the  thought  that  his  sainted  wife  might  witness 
and  bless  their  daughter's  union  from  her  tomb.  The  bride  was  already  at 
the  foot  of  the  altar,  pale  and  tremulous  ;  the  bridegroom  by  her  side 
breathless  and  agitated ;  the  minister  of  heaven  was  pronouncing  the  sacred 
words,  and  on  the  point  of  receiving  the  fatal  yes  which  was  to  unite  them 
until  death,  when  suddenly  an  appalling  shriek  struck  every  one  with  horror. 
The  Commendador  and  his  friends  first  thought  it  might  be  a  scuifle  among 
the  people  of  the  castle  ;  but  immediately  after,  the  cry  of  "  Fire !"  and  the 
approach  of  a  confused  multitude,  the  clatter  of  arms,  the  precipitate  step 
of  fugitives,  .the  groans  of  the  wounded  and  dying,  too  plainly  tcld  the  fatal 

"  Isabel  fainted  away  in  the  arms  of  her  husband ;  her  friends  and  retainers 
fled  panic- struck  ;  the  Commendador  rushed  out  like  lightning  to  inquire 
into  the  cause  of  the  alarm,  but  was  himself  met  at  the  door  of  the  chapel 
by  the  crowd  of  fugitives,  who  thronged  to  it  for  refuge.  In  vain  did  he 
demand  to  be  heard  ;  in  vain  he  repeated  question  after  question  :  no  answer 
could  be  obtained,  his  voice  was  drowned  in  cries  and  lamentations,  as  though 
death  were  at  hand.  Alas !  it  was  but  too  near. 

"  The  Moors  on  the  frontiers,  encouraged  by  a  long  peace,  and  secure  of 
making  an  easy  prey  of  people  plunged  in  heedless  revelry,  had,  during  the 
night,  scaled  the  walls  of  the  castle,  and,  profiting  by  the  negligence  of  the 


drunken  soldiers,  they  inundated  its  hall  and  courts,  and  began  the  work  of 
destruction  with  fire  and  sword.  Many  were  the  Christians  who,  on  that 
fatal  night,  passed  from  the  arms  of  sleep  into  those  of  death ;  others  fled 
to  the  chapel  in  hopes  of  finding  an  asylum,  invoking  the  name  of  God, 
which  died  in  terror  on  their  lips.  But  alas  !  at  sight  of  that  holy  retreat, 
the  fury  of  the  infidels  increased  instead  of  abating,  and  they  rushed  among 
the  Christians  like  so  many  wolves  into  a  sheep-fold.  The  Commendador, 
immoveable  as  a  statue,  sword  in  hand  awaited  their  attack  ;  and  though 
pierced  with  a  hundred  wounds,  stood  for  some  time  fixed  as  rock,  and  then 
staggered  and  fell,  trailing  himself  towards  the  tomb  of  his  wife,  where  he 
breathed  his  last.  Before  the  altar,  the  youthful  Venegas  was  seen  sustain- 
ing Isabel,  and  protecting  her  with  his  own  body  from  the  blows  of  the 
assailants.  Scarcely  was  the  young  cavalier  sensible  of  what  passed  round 
him ;  he  had  neither  arms  for  defence,  nor  hope  of  succour  from  human 
power ;  regardless  of  his  own  life,  his  heart  was  agonised  for  the  fate  of  his 
beloved  !  "  Surrender  or  die  !"  exclaimed  the  chief  of  the  invading  party, 
rushing  forward  to  separate  them.  Venegas  at  that  instant  received  a  wound 
in  the  forehead,  embraced  once,  more  his  bride,  and  fell  bathed  in  blgod  at 
her  feet.  Such  was  the  end  of  a  day  begun  under  such  happy  auspices  ! 
Who  will  put  faith  hi  earthly  joy,  which  so  quickly  flies  before  us  ?" 

Before  quitting  a  melancholy  contemplation  of  the  present  state  of  litera- 
ture in  Spain  we  must  not  forget  to  mention  another  Spaniard  who  sought 
among  ourselves  that  encouragement  which  the  land  of  his  birth  could  not, 
or  would  not,  give.  Don  Telesforo  de  Trueba,  a  man  of  great  intellectual 
acquirement,  industry,  and  perseverance,  produced,  some  twelve  or  fourteen 
years  ago,  in  the  English  language,  in  this  country,  several  romances  which 
attained  celebrity,  and  which  are  doubtless  in  the  memory,  or  knowledge,  of 
many  of  our  readers.  A  play  of  his  was  also  performed  at  Covent  Garden 
Theatre.  De  Trueba  subsequently  went  back  to  Spain,  and,  like  Martinez 
de  la  Rosa,  took  a  prominent  part  among  the  supporters  of  the  Queen  ;  he 
died  amid  the  political  confusion  which  ensued.  In  this  country  he  was 
much  regarded  and  esteemed  by  a  circle  of  friends,  and  the  news  of  his 
death  was  received  with  sorrow.  The  fate  of  such  men  is  grievous  indeed, 
branding,  as  it  does,  their  country's  degradation  on  the  very  face  of  Spain. 
In  conclusion  we  can  only  fervently  say,  God  send  deliverance  and  regenera- 
tion to  the  land  of  Calderon  and  Cervantes  ! 




THE  writer  of  romance  has  ever  been  accused  of  sacrificing  not  only 
the  probable,  but  the  possible,  to  the  marvellous, — of  concocting  fable 
that  could  have  no  foundation  in  fact, — describing  scenes  that  could  not 
have  occurred,  and  depicting  character  that  could  not  have  existed, 
of  building,  in  a  word,  on  the  slippery  sands  of  fiction  alone,  regardless 
alike  of  reason  and  reality.  Is  such,  however,  precisely  his  position  ? 
The  most  incomprehensible  of  his  stories  have  been  paralleled  in  every- 
day life  3  and  wonderful  though  his  narrations,  and  wild  and  fanciful  his 
dreamings,  the  judicial  historian  bears  ample  testimony  that  he  is 
not  altogether  a  visionary.  The  records  of  jurisprudence  disclose 
circumstances  which  have  absolutely  occurred,  as  strange  as  the 
strangest  to  be  found  in  the  pages  of  romance — as  difficult  to  be 
accounted  for,  and  as  hard  to  be  credited.  Of  these  singular  realities 
one  most  remarkable  is  the  following  trial  :— 

The  Duke  of  Marlborough  here  referred  to,  was  Charles  Spencer,  fifth 
Earl  of  Sunderland,  grandson  of  the  hero  of  Blenheim,  and  his  successor 
as  second  Duke  of  Marlborough,  which  title  he  inherited  the  24th  Octo- 
ber, 1733,  on  the  demise,  unmarried,  of  his  aunt,  Henrietta,  daughter  of  the 
first  Duke  and  herself  Duchess  of  Marlborough  in  her  own  right.  This 
second  Duke  was  himself  a  general  of  eminence,  and  fought  with  dis- 
tinction at  Dettingen  :  he  died  of  a  fever,  the  28th  October,  1758, 
at  Munsterin  Westphalia:  he  was  the  great  grandfather  of  the  present 
Duke  of  Marlborough. 

The  trial  took  place  at  the  Old  Bailey  on  the  10th  and  llth  May, 
1758:  the  able  Sir  Michael  Foster,  was  among  the  judges  present. 
The  narrative  given  on  the  side  of  the  prosecution  was  this  : — 

After  Mr.  Moore  had  opened  the  indictment,  Mr.  Serjeant  Davy 
spoke  as  follows : 

"  May  it  please  your  lordships,  and  you  gentlemen  of  the  jury  j 

I  am  counsel  in  this  cause  for  the  prosecution  against  the  prisoner  at 
the  bar,  who  stands  indicted  on  an  act  of  Parliament  made  in  the  ninth 
year  of  his  late  majesty,  very  well  known  by  the  name  of  the  Black 
Act.  That  act  of  parliament,  reciting  the  several  mischiefs,  and  consti- 
tuting several  felonies,  amongst  other  things,  enacts,  That  if  any  person 
shall  knowingly  send  any  letter,  without  any  name  subscribed  thereto, 
or  signed  with  a  fictitious  name,  demanding  money,  venison,  or  other 
valuable  things  ;  every  person  so  offending,  being  thereof  lawfully  con- 
victed, shall  be  adjudged  guilty  of  felony,  and  shall  suffer  death  as 
in  cases  of  felony,  without  benefit  of  clergy. 

It  is  on  that  act  that  this  indictment  now  comes  before  you,  that  you 
have  heard  read.  You  see  it  is  for  sending  a  letter  j  for  it  is  on  the  first 


of  these  letters  that  the  present  indictment   is   founded  j  the  others  are 
sent  in  consequence  of  the  first,  and  explanatory  of  his  intentions. 

I  will  open  to  you,  as  concisely  as  I  can,  the  several  circumstances  we 
have  in  evidence,  in  order  to  affect  the  prisoner  at  the  bar :  they  are 
circumstances  of  that  nature,  corresponding  so  exactly  with  the  pri- 
soner's case,  affecting  him  so  very  minutely,  that  the  several  circum- 
stances do  infer,  I  had  almost  said  an  impossibility  of  his  innocence : 
you  will  find  they  all  tally  so  exactly,  they  are  so  particularly  relative  to 
him,  that  it  will  be  offering  violence  to  every  rule  of  reason,  not  to  find 
him  guilty. 

Gentlemen,  on  the  29th  of  November,  a  letter  was  found  under 
the  door  of  the  Ordnance-office,  directed  to  his  Grace  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough  :  upon  opening  this  letter,  which  was  wrote  in  imitation 
of  print-hand,  bearing  date  that  day  the  29th  of  November,  it  will 
be  necessary,  for  the  sake  of  the  following  circumstances,  to  desire  your 
attention  to  the  several  parts.  These  are  the  words : 

"  To  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Marlborough. 

xxviiii  November. 

"  My  lord  ;  as  ceremony  is  an  idle  thing  upon  most  occasions,  more 
especially  to  persons  in  my  state  of  mind,  I  shall  proceed  immediately 
to  acquaint  you  with  the  motive  and  end  of  addressing  this  epistle 
to  you,  which  is  equally  interesting  to  us  both.  You  are  to  know  then, 
that  my  present  situation  in  life  is  such,  that  I  should  prefer  annihilation 
to  a  continuance  in  it :  desperate  diseases  require  desperate  remedies  j 
and  you  are  the  man  I  have  pitched  upon,  either  to  make  me,  or 
to  unmake  yourself.  As  I  never  had  the  honour  to  live  among  the 
great,  the  tenor  of  my  proposals  will  not  be  very  courtly  ;  but  let  that 
be  an  argument  to  enforce  the  belief  of  what  I  am  now  going  to  write. 
It  has  employed  my  invention,  for  some  time,  to  find  out  a  method 
to  destroy  another,  without  exposing  my  own  life  j  that  I  have  accom- 
plished, and  defy  the  law.  Now  for  the  application  of  it.  I  am  despe- 
rate, and  must  be  provided  for  :  you  have  it  in  your  power,  it  is  my 
business  to  make  it  your  inclination,  to  serve  me  ;  which  you  must  deter- 
mine to  comply  with,  by  procuring  me  a  genteel  support  for  my  life ;  or 
your  own  will  be  at  a  period  before  this  session  of  parliament  is  over. 
I  have  more  motives  than  one  for  singling  you  out  first,  upon  this  occa- 
sion ;  and  I  give  you  this  fair  warning,  because  the  means  I  shall  make 
use  of  are  too  fatal  to  be  eluded  by  the  power  of  physic.  If  you  think 
this  of  any  consequence,  you  will  not  fail  to  meet  the  author  on  Sunday 
next,  at  ten  in  the  morning,  or  on  Monday,  (if  the  weather  should 
be  rainy  on  Sunday)  near  the  first  tree  beyond  the  stile  in  Hyde  Park,  in 
the  foot-walk  to  Kensington  :  secrecy  and  compliance  may  preserve  you 
from  a  double  danger  of  this  sort :  as  there  is  a  certain  part  of  the 
world,  where  your  death  has  more  than  been  wished  for,  upon  other 
motives.  I  know  the  world  too  well,  to  trust  this  secret  in  any  breast 
but  my  own.  A  few  days  determine  me  your  friend  or  enemy. 


"  You  will  apprehend  that  I  mean  you  should  be  alone ;  and  depend 
upon  it,  that  a  discovery  of  any  artifice  in  this  affair  will  be  fatal  to  you  : 
my  safety  is  insured  by  my  silence ;  for  confession  only  can  con- 
demn me." 

This  letter  containing  every  thing  that  is  dreadful,  that  might  raise 
apprehensions  of  terror,  subscribed  by  a  name  which  is  painful  to  almost 


every  ear — the  name  Felton !     That  was  the  name  of  the  assassin  that 
stabbed  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  at  Portsmouth. 

My  lord  duke,  not  intimidated  by  the  letter,  though  greatly  surprised 
at  it,  and  willing  to  find  out  the  author,  was  not  afraid  to  endeavour  to 
apprehend  him ;  he  went  alone  to  the  spot,  and  at  the  time  appointed  j 
however,  there  was  some  attendant  on  his  Grace  at  a  distance,  in  order 
to  observe  what  passed  on  the  occasion.  My  lord  duke  had  been  there 
some  time  on  horseback,  and  as  much  undressed  as  a  man  of  his  quality 
is.  He  had  pistols  before  him  j  he  had  been  there  some  time,  and  saw 
nobody  at  all  at  that  particular  place.  After  waiting  some  considerable 
time,  he  was  returning,  and  observed  a  person  come  to  the  particular 
spot  just  by  the  tree  beyond  the  stile  in  Hyde  Park,  by  the  foot- walk  to 
Kensington  :  that  person  held  a  handkerchief  to  his  mouth  in  a  seeming 
disconsolate  manner,  looking  into  the  water,  and  stood  still  a  very  con- 
siderable while.  Upon  his  Grace  seeing  this,  that  the  man  was  not 
pursuing  any  way,  the  Duke  had  no  doubt  in  his  own  mind,  but  that 
this  man  (be  he  who  he  would)  must  be  the  person  who  had  sent  him 
this  letter.  The  man  sauntering  just  at  the  place,  the  Duke  rode  up  to 
the  spot,  expecting  the  person  would  speak  to  him  :  his  Grace  asked  the 
man,  Whether  he  wanted  to  speak  to  him  ?  He  said,  "No." — "  Sir,"  said 
the  Duke,  "do  you  know  me  ?  I  am  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  j  telling 
you  that,  perhaps  you  have  something  to  say  to  me."  "No,  my  lord." 
No  notice  being  taken,  the  Duke  came  away. 

Gentlemen,  you  see,  that  this  was  an  appointment  on  a  Sunday 
to  meet  at  a  place  where  several  people  might  be  supposed  to  be 
walking.  What  was  the  view  of  that  person  may  be  seen  by-and-bye. 
The  author  of  this  letter  speaks  of  his  being  exceedingly  guarded 
against  the  possibility  of  a  detection  ;  he  boasts  of  the  care  and  caution 
he  had  used  for  that  purpose, — he  defies  the  law, — nothing  but  confession 
could  condemn  him, — his  safety  was  insured  by  his  silence, — he  knew 
the  world  too  well,  to  trust  this  secret  in  any  breast  but  his  own. 

A  few  days  after,  in  the  same  week,  the  Duke  received  a  second  letter. 
This  also  was  put  under  the  door  of  the  Office  of  Ordnance,  and  was 
also  wrote  in  imitation  of  a  print-hand  :  but  the  directions  of  both  the 
letters  are  not ;  there  will  be  occasion  to  take  notice  of  that  circumstance 
by-and-bye.  The  second  letter  is  in  these  words  : 

"  To  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Marlborough. 

"My  lord  ;  You  receive  this  as  an  acknowledgment  of  your  punctu- 
ality as  to  the  time  and  place  of  meeting  on  Sunday  last,  though  it  was 
owing  to  you  that  it  answered  no  purpose.  The  pageantry  of  being 
armed,  and  the  ensign  of  your  order,  were  useless,  and  too  conspicuous : 
you  needed  no  attendant ;  the  place  was  not  calculated  for  mischief,  nor 
was  any  intended.  If  you  walk  in  the  west  aisle  of  Westminster  Abbey, 
towards  eleven  o'clock  on  Sunday  next,  your  sagacity  will  point  out  the 
person,  whom  you  will  address  by  asking  his  company  to  take  a  turn  or 
two  with  you.  You  will  not  fail,  on  enquiry,  to  be  acquainted  with  the 
name  and  place  of  abode ;  according  to  which  directions  you  will  please 
to  send  two  or  three  hundred  pound  bank  notes  the  next  day  by  the 
penny  post.  Exert  not  your  curiosity  too  early  :  it  is  in  your  power  to 
make  me  grateful  on  certain  terms.  I  have  friends  who  are  faithful  j 
but  they  do  not  bark  before  they  bite.  I  am,  &c.  &c.  F." 

Gentlemen,  you  see,  the  writer  of  the  second  letter  speaks  of  being 
himself  in  the  Park,  or  at  least  of  knowing  that  the  Duke  was  there,  at 

VOL.  iv.  NO.  xvi.  K 


the  time  and  place  appointed  :  and  therefore  this  was  a  farther  circum- 
stance to  convince  the  Duke,  that  the  person,  whom  he  had  seen  the 
Sunday  before  in  Hyde  Park,  and  spoke  to,  was  the  writer  of  the 
second  letter.  You  see  it  speaks  of  the  Duke's  punctuality  as  to  the 
time  and  place  of  meeting,  the  particular  dress  his  grace  was  in,  and 
assigns  that  as  the  reason  of  not  speaking  to  him  the  Sunday  before  :  so 
you  see,  gentlemen,  that  circumstance,  which  was  a  little  unaccountable 
of  itself/of  the  Duke's  not  being  owned  by  the  person  whom  he  had 
seen  on  the  Sunday  before,  is  by  the  second  letter  accounted  for; — 
"The  pageantry  of  being  armed,  and  the  ensign  of  his  order."  He  had 
then  only  a  star  on,  and  that  perhaps  an  old  one,  so  as  not  to  be  conspi- 
cuous :  so  that  this  accounts  for  the  person's  not  speaking  to  the  Duke 
in  Hyde  Park.  There  can  be  no  doubt  at  all,  but  that  the  writer  of  the 
second  was  the  writer  of  the  first  letter. 

The  consequence  then  of  this  second  appointment  to  meet  the  writer 
of  the  letters  in  the  west  aisle  of  Westminster  Abbey,  you  wijj  observe 
public  places  were  appointed,  and  at  public  times ;  the  first  in  Hyde 
Park,  the  second  in  prayer-time  at  Westminster  Abbey,  where  the  Duke 
was  <e  by  his  sagacity  to  point  out  the  person" — the  writer  of  this  letter. 
The  Duke  accordingly  went  to  Westminster  Abbey,  to  the  west  aisle 
(though  indeed,  properly  speaking,  we  don't  know  which  to  call  the 
west  aisle,  the  church  standing  east  and  west).  His  grace  went  to  the 
western-most  part  of  the  Abbey,  and  observed  nobody  lurking  or 
standing  in  circumstances  suspicious :  after  a  little  time,  his  grace 
was  surprized  to  see  that  the  same  person,  whom  he  had  seen  the 
Sunday  before  exactly  at  the  spot  in  Hyde  Park,  appeared  just  in  this 
place  at  the  west  end  of  Westminster  Abbey  ;  but  he  was  surprised  the 
more,  that  this  person  did  not  speak  to  him.  Perhaps  his  grace  had  not 
then  considered  the  tenor  of  this  letter ;  for  it  was  not  to  be  expected, 
that  the  writer  would  address  the  Duke,  but  rather  refers  to  the  Duke's 
sagacity  : — "  Your  sagacity  will  point  out  the  person  j"  it  then  directs, 
"  whom  you  will  address  by  asking  his  company  to  take  a  turn  or  two 
with  you."  His  grace  perhaps  did  not  consider  this  exactly ;  but 
waiting  some  time  for  the  person  to  speak  to  him,  and  finding  he  did 
not,  his  grace  asked  him,  "  Sir,  have  you  any  thing  to  say  to  me  ?" — "  No, 
my  lord."  t{  Have  you  nothing  at  all  to  say  to  me  ?" — "  No."  "  Have  you 
nothing  at  all  to  say  to  me  ?"  No,  he  had  nothing  to  say  to  him.  Now 
I  should  have  mentioned  to  you,  when  this  person  came  into  the  Abbey, 
another  person  came  in  with  him,  who  seemed  by  his  appearance 
to  be  a  substantial  tradesman,  a  good  sort  of  man.  These  two  persons, 
after  stopping  and  looking  about  at  the  monuments  near  the  west  gate 
of  the  Abbey,  the  Duke  being  sure  one  of  them  was  the  same  man  he 
had  seen  before  in  Hyde  Park,  his  grace  thought  proper  to  go  and  stand 
by  them,  to  see  if  that  person  would  speak  to  him.  Seeing  the  duke 
took  no  notice  of  him,  they  both  went  towards  the  choir :  the  stranger 
went  into  the  choir,  and  the  man  that  his  grace  had  seen  in  the  Park, 
came  back  again  (leaving  his  friend  there)  to  the  spot  where  the  duke 
was.  The  duke  then  asked  him,  whether  he  had  any  thing  to  say  to 
him  ?  No,  he  had  nothing  at  all  to  say  to  him.  No,  he  had  nothing  at 
all  to  say.  Then  the  duke  walked  a  little  on  the  other  side  of  the 
aisle,  to  see  whether  the  man  would  follow  him,  or  had  a  mind  to  speak 
to  him  at  another  spot.  He  observed  the  man  looked  eagerly  at  him  j 
may-be  it  may  be  understood,  he  expected  the  duke's  "sagacity  would 


point  out  the  man."     However,  the  duke  did  not  do  what  the  letter 
required,  that  is,  ask  him  to  take  a  turn  with  him. 

At  this  second  time  there  was  somebody  that  was  with  the  duke 
(when  I  say  with  him,  I  don't  mean  close  to  him,  but)  near  enough,  so 
as  to  take  notice  what  passed,  in  order  to  apprehend  the  person,  so  as  to 
put  it  beyond  all  doubt  that  he  was  the  author  of  those  letters.  The 
duke,  and  this  attendant  of  his,  went  out  at  the  west  door  of  the  Abbey, 
in  order  to  go  to  his  coach.  Now  you  will  find  by-and-bye,  in  the  next 
letter,  that  the  writer  of  these  letters  took  notice  of  this  attendant,  but 
was  under  no  apprehension  of  being  watched  by  any  body  else ;  and 
that  will  account  for  those  circumstances  I  am  going  to  mention: 
as  soon  as  the  duke  went  out  of  the  Abbey,  that  man,  whom  the  duke 
had  seen  at  both  these  places,  watched  the  duke  out  of  the  Abbey,  and 
as  soon  as  his  grace  had  passed  the  door  of  the  Abbey,  he  went  up,  hid 
himself  in  a  corner,  concealed  from  a  possibility  of  being  seen  by 
his  grace  in  case  he  had  looked  back,  and  so  watched  him  into  his  coach. 
It  maybe  asked,  why  his  grace,  upon  having  such  clear  conviction  in 
his  mind,  that  that  person  must  be  the  writer  of  both  the  letters,  did  not 
apprehend  him  ?  his  grace  will  tell  you,  he  did  not  think  himself  justified 
in  so  doing  j  he  could  not  reconcile  it  to  his  own  mind  to  take  up 
a  man,  where  there  was  a  possibility  of  his  innocence. 

Gentlemen,  a  few  days  after  this,  came  a  third  letter  to  the  duke, 
wrapped  up  in  a  very  small  compass,  and  directed  to  his  Grace  the  Duke 
of  Maryborough  at  his  house.  You  will  see,  by  comparing  the  direc- 
tion, that  this  third  letter  was  wrote  by  the  writer  of  the  first  letter :  It 
begins,  "  My  lord,  I  am  fully  convinced  you  had  a  companion  on 
Sunday."  So  far  it  is  proved,  that  the  writer  of  these  letters  was  in  the 
Park  on  the  first  Sunday,  and  saw  the  duke  there ;  and  was  in  the  Abbey 
on  the  second  Sunday,  and  saw  the  duke  there ;  and  that  it  was  the 
same  man  that  the  duke  saw  at  both  these  times. — "  I  interpret  it 
as  owing  to  the  weakness  of  human  nature  :  but  such  proceedings 
is  far  from  beiag  ingenious,  and  may  produce  bad  effects,  whilst  it  is 
impossible  to  answer  the  end  proposed." — Guarded  through  all.  "  You 
will  see  me  again  soon,  as  it  were  by  accident,  and  may  easily  find 
where  I  go  to ;  in  consequence  of  which,  by  being  sent  to,  1  shall  wait 
on  your  grace,  but  expect  to  be  quite  alone,  and  converse  in  whispers. 
You  will  likewise  give  your  honour,  upon  meeting,  that  no  part  of  the 
conversation  shall  transpire." — So  that  you  see,  as  he  was  guarded 
before,  he  was  determined  to  make  it  impossible  to  be  discovered : 
if  they  were  to  converse  in  whispers,  and  to  be  quite  alone,  it  was 
impossible  for  other  evidence  to  rise  up  against  him — "  These  and 
the  former  terms  complied  with,  insure  your  safety ;  my  revenge,  in 
case  of  non-compliance,  (or  any  scheme  to  expose  me)  will  be  slower, 
but  not  less  sure,  and  strong  suspicion  the  utmost  that  can  possibly 
ensue  upon  it." — You  see,  how  artful  he  had  contrived  it :  he  was 
determined  that  nothing  more  than  strong  suspicion  should  ever  be 
in  evidence  against  him — "While  the  chances  will  be  tenfold  against 
you.  You  will  possibly  be  in  doubt  after  the  meeting,  but  it  is  quite 
necessary  the  outside  should  be  a  mask  of  the  in.  The  family  of 
the  BLOODS  is  not  extinct,  though  they  are  not  in  my  scheme." — The 
word  BLOODS  is  in  capital  letters.  That  is  a  dreadful  name  ?  As  Felton 
was  the  villain  who  assassinated  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  so  this  is  the 
name  of  the  fellow  who  seized  the  Duke  of  Ormond,  and  was  going 

i  2 


to  carry  him  to  Tyburn  to  execute  him,  and  also  who  stole  the  crown 
out  of  the  Tower  of  London. 

You  see,  gentlemen,  by  this  third  letter,  that  the  duke  was  to  expect 
to  hear  something  farther  from  the  writer  of  these  letters.  It  contains 
no  appointment,  but  leads  the  duke  to  expect  he  shall  see  the  writer 
again  as  by  accident,  and  was  to  observe  where  he  should  go  to,  that  the 
duke  might  know  where  to  send  for  him  ;  and  that  he  would  come  in 
consequence  of  being  sent  for  ;  but  when  he  came  to  the  duke  the 
terms  were,  to  be  a  secret  conversation,  not  in  the  presence  of  a 
third  person,  and  that  too  by  whispers,  and  the  duke  promising,  upon  his 
honour,  that  no  part  of  it  should  transpire,  without  which  he  was 
not  led  to  think  the  writer  should  disclose  anything  at  all.  The  first 
letter  was  dated  and  received  the  29th  November,  the  second  received 
the  next  week,  the  third  in  the  second  week  of  December,  and  the  last 
was  some  time  in  April. 

The  duke  waited,  expecting  to  hear  farther ;  but  heard  nothing  more 
until   the  middle  of  April.     About    the   14th    there  came   a   letter   to 
his  grace,  wrote  in  a  mean  hand,  but  not  in  imitation  of  a  print  hand,  as 
the  others  were.     These  are  the  words  of  the  fourth  letter: 
"  To  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Marlborough. 

"  May  it  please  your  grace  j  I  have  reason  to  believe,  that  the  son  of 
one  Barnard,  a  surveyor  in  Abingdon-buildings,  Westminster,  is  ac- 
quainted with  some  secrets  that  nearly  concern  your  safety:  his  father 
is  now  out  of  town,  which  will  give  you  an  opportunity  of  questioning 
more  privately.  It  would  be  useless  to  your  grace,  as  well  as  dan- 
gerous to  me,  to  appear  more  publicly  in  this  affair. — Your  sincere 
friend,  ANONYMOUS." 

"He  frequently  goes  to  Storey's-gate  coffee-house." 

Gentlemen,  the  duke  sent  for  Mr.  Barnard,  the  son  of  Mr.  Barnard, 
according  to  the  directions  in  that  letter.  This  letter,  you  will  see,  bears 
no  date  at  all  j  no  memorandum,  or  any  thing  which  could  possibly 
indicate  when  the  letter  was  sent,  or  when  the  duke  received  it.  The 
duke,  when  Mr.  Barnard  came,  was  sitting  in  his  room  ;  and  though 
upon  opening  the  door  of  the  outer  room  (which  was  at  three  score 
yards  distance  from  where  the  duke  was,)  yet  the  moment  Mr.  Barnard 
entered  the  room,  he  was  sure  that  was  the  man  he  had  seen  both 
in  the  Park  and  in  the  Abbey.  Though  the  duke  had  no  doubt  in  his 
own  mind  on  the  former  circumstances,  that  the  person  whom  he 
had  seen  before  was  the  writer  of  the  first  letter,  now  he  was  fully  con- 
vinced that  he  was  the  writer  of  all  the  letters.  The  duke  was  deter- 
mined the  scheme  should  not  so  far  take  effect,  as  to  engage  himself 
upon  his  honour,  that  no  part  of  the  conversation  should  transpire  ;  if 
so,  nothing  could  have  prevailed  upon  him  to  prosecute  :  therefore  you 
are  not  to  expect  he  complied  with  a  conversation  in  whispers,  and 
a  promise  on  the  duke's  part,  that  no  part  of  the  conversation  should 
transpire.  The  third  letter  will  tell  you,  that  the  person  that  entered  the 
room  was  the  writer  of  all  these  letters.  As  soon  as  he  came  into  the 
room,  the  duke  took  him  to  the  window,  and  asked  him,  whether 
he  wanted  to  speak  with  him?  "No,  my  lord." — "No,  Sir!  I  have 
received  a  letter,  which  tells  me,  that  you  are  acquainted  with  some  cir- 
cumstances that  nearly  concern  my  safety." — "Not  I,  my  lord."  "  This  is 
very  surprising,  Sir!  this  is  the  letter;"  and  showed  him  the  last  letter. 
Still  the  duke  had  not  given  him  any  promise  at  all  of  not  exposing  the 


conversation.  "  Sir,  it  is  very  odd  that  you  should  be  pointed  out  to 
me,  to  acquaint  me  with  some  circumstances  relating  to  my  safety, 
because  it  mentions  some  circumstances  as  to  the  time,  the  place 
where  you  are  to  be  found,  your  father's  being  out  of  town,  and  the 
like."  The  prisoner  incautiously  said  immediately,  "  My  lord,  my  father 
was  out  of  town  at  that  time." — "  At  what  time,  Sir  ?  The  letter  bears 
no  date,  nor  have  I  mentioned  to  you  a  syllable  when  I  received  it :  how 
came  you  to  know  when  I  received  this  letter,  that  you  should  tell  me, 
your  father  was  not  in  town  at  that  time  ?  You  speak  clearly,  as 
knowing  when  I  received  this  letter ;  therefore  give  me  leave  on  this 
occasion  to  tell  you,  that  I  do  not  only  suspect  you  know  of  this  letter, 
but  that  you  have  sent  to  me  some  other  letters  that  I  have  received 
before  :"  then  acquainting  him  with  the  other  three  letters,  his  grace 
observing  upon  them,  that  it  was  very  odd  and  strange,  that  the  letters 
corresponded  so  exactly  and  decisively  on  him,  he  being  always  at 
the  places  at  the  time  appointed,  and  that  he  being  the  person  named  in 
the  fourth  letter  too,  and  that  he  knew  the  time  of  the  duke's  receiving 
that  letter,  the  duke  put  it  upon  him,  "  Sir/V'am  surprised  at  the  writer 
of  this  letter ;  one  should  suppose  from  the  style,  and  its  being  gram- 
matically wrote,  that  the  person  who  wrote  it,  had  had  some  share 
of  education  j  at  least  I  am  surprised  that  a  man  that  has  had  any 
education  at  all,  can  descend  to  such  a  means  of  getting  money." 
"My  lord,  your  grace  need  not  be  surprised  at  thatj  a  man  may 
be  learned  and  very  poor."  Very  fond  was  he  of  softening  things. 
"  My  lord,  you  need  not  be  affrighted  :  I  dare  say  the  writer  of  these 
letters  is  a  very  mad  man.*'  "  Why  !  you  are  very  much  concerned 
to  apologize  for  the  writer  hereof,"  said  the  duke.  Picking  out  this 
circumstance,  the  man  does  not  know  me,  he  expresses  his  very  great 
surprise  at  my  appearing  in  the  Park  with  the  ensign  of  my  order,  and 
my  being  armed — as  incautious  as  he  had  been  before,  he  is  incautious 
upon  that  too,  and  said,  "  Indeed  I  was  surprised  to  see  your  grace 
armed."  "Was  you  so  ?"  said  the  duke.  "Was  you  surprised  to 
see  me  armed  ?  Can  any  man  doubt  a  moment  who  wrote  these  letters  ? 
But,  however,  Mr.  Barnard,  as  you  insist  upon  it,  and  declare  so 
solemnly  your  innocence,  I  will  not  so  far  invade  the  laws  of  hospitality, 
whatever  crime  you  have  done."  (He  would  not  for  the  world  appre- 
hend a  man  in  his  own  house  whom  he  had  sent  for ;  he  let  him  go  safe 
home  again  ;  it  was  for  that  reason  he  would  not  give  his  promise  not 
to  reveal  the  conversation  j  but  in  regard  to  the  public  he  was  deter- 
mined to  prosecute.)  The  duke  said  to  him,  "  Sir,  if  you  are  not 
the  writer  of  these  papers,  it  much  becomes  you  to  find  out  who  is  j 
for  your  name  is  particularly  mentioned  in  this  last  letter ;  either  you 
are  the  writer,  or  allow  me  to  say,  somebody  else  owes  you  very  ill-will 
that  was  the  writer  of  them."  I  am  relying  merely  on  the  terms  of  the 
last  letter,  wherein  he  was  to  inform  his  grace  of  things  that  nearly 
concerned  his  safety,  so  much  to  the  hazard  of  his  own  life  ?  What 
became  him,  as  having  a  regard  to  his  own  reputation  and  safety  ?  To 
determine,  as  far  as  in  his  power,  to  find  out  the  writer  ;  nay  to  have 
given  the  duke  assurance  that  he  would  do  it :  instead  of  that,  what  was 
his  behaviour  ?  A  smile  of  contempt — an  unmannerly  laugh  in  the 
duke's  face,  as  if  it  did  not  concern  him  at  all. 

Gentlemen,  I  should  think  that  to  this  there  can  hardly  be  a  circum- 
stance added  more  clearly  to   convince  any  man  alive  of  the  circum- 


stances  of  this  man's  being  the  author  of  these  letters  ;  but  you  will 
iind  afterwards  the  prisoner  (for  what  reason  let  him  tell  if  he  can) 
told  his  grace,  he  had  desired  his  companion  that  was  with  him  in 
Westminster  Abbey  to  leave  him  :  Why  ?  "  Because  he  thought  the 
duke  wanted  to  tell  him  of  some  place  he  had  for  him."  Good  God  ! 
how  could  he  imagine  he  wanted  to  tell  him  of  a  place  ?  A  person 
whom  he  had  never  seen  before  he  saw  him  in  the  Park,  how  could  he 
expect  that  ?  This  was  his  awkward  reason  for  desiring  his  companion 
to  leave  him. 

I  beg  pardon,  if  I  have  omitted  any  thing  ;  these  are  the  circum- 
stances that  have  occurred  to  me  on  this  occasion  ;  they  are  so  strong 
and  necessary  in  the  proof  of  the  prisoner's  guilt,  that  I  will  venture 
to  say,  it  is  much  more  satisfactory  to  an  indifferent  person,  than  posi- 
tive testimony — the  positive  testimony  of  any  man,  as  men  are  liable  to 
mistakes,  as  mistake  in  time,  a  mistake  in  persons,  will  exceedingly  vary 
the  case  j  but  variety  of  circumstances,  which  tally  in  their  own 
nature,  cannot  lie  or  deceive. 

This  prosecution  is  commenced  merely  for  the  sake  of  justice ;  I  am 
instructed  to  say  from  his  grace,  it  is  perfectly  indifferent  to  him 
what  will  be  the  issue  of  the  trial :  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  come  here, 
and  leave  it  to  his  country  to  determine  as  they  shall  think  proper." 

The  evidence,  which  bore  out  this  address,  and  which  was  unshaken 
by  cross-examination,  need  not  be  given  here ;  but  the  extraordinary  part 
of  the  story  is  in  the  prisoner's  complete  answer  to  the  accusation.  In 
his  defence  the  prisoner  merely  said,  "I  am  entirely  innocent  of  this 
affair  with  which  I  am  charged.  I  leave  it  to  the  Court  and  the 
jury,  with  the  evidence  that  will  be  produced."  He  then  brought  the  fol- 
lowing testimony. 

John  Barnard  was  sworn, 

J.  Barnard.     I  am  father  to  the  prisoner  at  the  bar. 

What  is  his  employ  ? — He  is  employed  in  my  business  as  a  builder 
and  surveyor  principally ;  in  not  only  that,  and  drawing  plans,  but  also 
in  receiving  great  sums  of  money. 

Have  his  accounts  always  stood  right  and  clear? — They  always  have. 

Do  you  look  upon  him  to  be  a  sober  man  ? — I  have  had  great  reason 
to  believe  him  such,  more  particularly  lately. 

Has  he  been  possessed  of  large  sums  of  money  ? — He  has,  of  consi- 
derable sums  5  I  have  oftener  asked  him  for  money  than  he  me. 

Had  you  any  occasion  to  send  him  to  Kensington  on  Sunday  the  4th 
of  December? — I  had  nothing,  but  circumstances  brought  the  day  to 
my  mind  since  :  I  gave  him  an  order  on  that  Sunday  morning,  when  we 
were  at  breakfast,  to  go  to  Kensington,  to  know  whether  there  was  some 
money  paid  by  the  treasurer  of  the  turnpikes  for  gravel  :  I  have  a  bro- 
ther there,  named  Joseph}  he  went  there  and  did  his  business,  and  dined 
with  my  brother. 

How  do  you  know  that? — Because  he  told  me  so  ;  and  the  solicitor 
of  the  turnpike  told  me  he  had  been  with  him,  and  in  consequence  of 
which  I  had  my  money  afterwards. 

Have  you  ever  heard  your  son  take  any  notice  of  his  meeting  with  the 
Duke  of  Marlborough  that  day  ? — When  he  came  home,  he  told  me, 
he  had  met  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  and  these  circumstances  of  his 
grace's  taking  notice  of  him  j  he  mentioned  it  as  an  extraordinary  thing. 


I  asked  him,  if  he  had  not  looked  a  little  impudently  (as  he  has  a  near 
sight)  at  him,  or  pulled  his  glass  out  ? — He  said,  he  saw  another  gentle- 
man at  a  distance,  and  the  duke  was  armed ;  and  he  imagined  there 
might  be  a  duel  going  forward ;  he  has  from  that  time  to  this  mentioned 
it  as  a  very  strange  event  several  times  in  my  house,  without  any  reserve 
at  all. 

Cross  examination. 

At  the  time  you  sent  your  son  to  Kensington  on  the  4ih  of  December, 
suppose  you  had  not  given  him  an  order  to  go  there,  whether  he  was 
not  at  liberty  to  go  where  he  pleased? — Yes  j  I  never  restrain  him. 

Did  he  say  he  was  surprised  to  see  the  duke  without  a  great  coat  ? — 
I  cannot  remember  that  particular. 

Did  you  hear  him  mention  his  seeing  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  in 
Westminster-Abbey  ? — I  have  very  often,  and  very  publicly,  and  with 
some  surprise  j  as  he  has  that  in  Hyde-Park.  I  said  to  him,  I  would 
not  have  you  be  public  in  speaking  of  things  in  this  kind,  lest  a  use  be 
made  of  it  to  your  disadvantage. 

Thomas  Barnard  sworn. 

T.  Barnard.  I  am  first  cousin  to  the  prisoner  at  the  bar.  On  Satur- 
day the  3rd  of  December  I  was  at  Kensington,  and  lay  at  my  uncle's 
house  there  and  dined  there.  On  the  Sunday  the  prisoner  came  there 
before  dinner,  he  said  he  had  been  to  do  some  business  that  way.  He 
dined  with  us  5  there  were  my  uncle,  aunt,  he  and  I ;  he  related  that 
circumstance  to  us  of  meeting  with  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  in  Hyde- 
Park  j  he  said  he  rode  up  to  him,  and  asked  if  he  knew  who  he  was  ; 
he  answered,  No  j  he  replied,  I  am  the  Duke  of  Marlborough.  He  re- 
lated it  with  some  cheerfulness,  though  as  a  matter  of  surprise. 

How  long  have  you  known  the  prisoner  ? — From  his  birth  :  he  is  in 
business  with  his  father  ;  I  always  understood  he  would  succeed  his  fa- 
ther j  I  never  knew  him  to  behave  any  otherwise  than  well  in  my  life. 
I  never  thought  him  extravagant,  nor  never  heard  so;  I  had  always 
looked  upon  him  to  be  an  honest  man  ;  his  father  is  in  very  great 

Should  you  look  upon  it,  that  a  small  place  would  be  equal  to  the 
chance  of  succeeding  his  father  in  his  business  ? — I  should  never  have 
thought  of  such  a  thing  j  I  looked  upon  his  situation  in  life  to  be  a  very 
extraordinary  thing :  I  thought  he  would  give  the  preference  to  that 
above  any  thing  else. 


Do  you  think  he  would  refuse  a  good  place  ? — No  man  would  refuse 
a  place  that  is  to  his  advantage. 

Joseph  Barnard  sworn. 

J.  Barnard.  I  am  uncle  to  the  prisoner  at  the  bar ;  I  live  at  Ken- 
sington ;  my  nephew,  Thomas  Barnard,  lay  at  my  house  on  the  Satur- 
day night,  and  dined  with  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  on  the  Sunday.  I  re- 
member he  then  mentioned  having  met  with  the  Duke  of  Marlborough 
in  Hyde-Park,  while  we  were  sitting  at  dinner.  I  said  I  was  surprised 
he  should  meet  with  him  that  day;  he  said  he  saw  but  one  gentleman 
at  a  distance,  and  the  duke  was  armed  ;  and  his  grace  looked  him  full 
in  the  face,  very  earnestly  (which  he  seemed  to  speak  with  a  great  deal 
of  pleasure  to  me)  ;  he  is  very  near-sighted,  he  can  see  nothing  at  a  dis- 
tance without  the  use  of  a  glass.  I  have  heard  him  since  speak  four  or 
five  times  of  seeing  the  duke  in  Westminster-Abbey. 


How  long  ago  ? — About  a  month  ago.  He  is  brought  up  under  his 
father  in  very  considerable  business,  and  a  man  of  some  property  besides, 
and  was  employed  as  his  clerk  or  book-keeper. 

Is  he  a  sober  man  ? — Very  sober  ;  I  never  heard  to  the  contrary  ; 
neither  did  I  ever  hear  his  father  speak  of  him  as  idle  or  dilatory. 

Thomas  Calcut  sworn. 

T.  Calcut.  I  live  at  Kensington  :  I  remember  the  prisoner  coming 
there  on  a  Sunday  morning  ;  a  very  cold,  foggy  morning  :  with  some 
message  from  his  father  to  me,  to  know  whether  the  solicitor  had  paid 
some  money  or  not.  He  was  under  his  father,  as  I  am  under  mine  ;  he 
desired  me  to  go  with  him ;  I  said,  stay  and  dine  with  me :  he  said,  he 
could  not  promise,  because  he  had  promised  to  dine  with  his  uncle 
Joseph  ;  he  went  into  the  parlour,  and  said,  it  is  vastly  cold  :  there  has 
been  the  oddest  accident  happened  as  J  came  over  the  Park  !  the  Duke 
of  Marlborough  came  up  to  me,  and  asked  me,  if  I  knew  him  ?  I  said, 
No.  He  asked  me,  if  I  wanted  any  thing  with  him  ? — I  told  him,  No. 
He  said,  I  am  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  if  you  want  any  thing  with  me  j 
then  the  duke  went  away,  and  he  came  there.  He  expressed  a  great 
surprise  at  it,  and  I  thought  it  a  very  odd  affair. 
Henry  Clive,  Esq.  sworn. 

H.  Clive.  I  have  known  the  prisoner  two  years  ;  I  remember  dining 
with  him  on  the  8th  December,  at  his  father's  house,  with  a  great  deal 
of  company  j  I  heard  him  then  say  at  dinner,  that  some  few  days  before, 
he  had  met  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  in  Hyde-Park  ;  that  the  duke 
asked  him,  if  he  had  any  business  with  him  ?  He  said,  No ;  he  then 
told  him  who  he  was,  and  asked  him  the  same  again  j  he  said,  No. 
That  the  duke  seemed  in  some  confusion,  and  was  armed ;  and  he 
thought  he  was  about  a  duel ;  and  indeed  I  thought  it  was  a  very  great 
lie.  I  have  gone  very  frequently  to  his  father's  in  relation  to  Brentford 
Bridge.  I  have  no  other  acquaintance  with  him,  only  going  to  his  fa- 
ther's, so  cannot  say  any  thing  to  his  character,  either  frugal  or  extra- 

Can  you  name  any  body  that  dined  there  that  day? — Yes,  there  was 
Mr.  Wilson  and  his  lady,  Mr.  Tunstall  and  his  lady,  another  gentleman 
and  his  wife,  and  the  prisoner's  younger  brother  that  is  at  Westminster 

Mrs.  Mary  Wilson,  sworn. 

Mrs.  Wilson.  I  dined  at  Mr.  Barnard's  on  Tuesday  the  8th  December  j 
the  prisoner  I  remember  said  he  had  been  in  Hyde-Park  some  days  be- 
fore, and  there  he  saw  a  gentleman  on  horseback  come  up  to  him,  and 
ask  him,  if  he  had  anything  to  say  to  him?  He  said,  No;  then  he 
said,  I  am  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  now  you  know  me,  have  you  any 
thing  to  say  to  me  ?  He  said,  No.  He  talked  of  this  very  freely  to  us  all. 

James  Greenwood  sworn. 

Greenwood.  I  live  at  Deptford,  with  a  relation  in  the  brewing-way  ; 
I  came  from  Deptford  on  Saturday  to  the  prisoner's  father's ;  and  on 
the  Sunday  following  I  was  there  at  breakfast ;  I  solicited  the  prisoner 
to  get  himself  dressed  to  go  with  me  into  the  Park,  being  to  meet  a  per- 
son at  twelve  o'clock  ;  I  with  a  good  deal  of  difficulty  got  him  to  dress 
himself  j  I  put  my  shirt  on  in  the  parlour,  and  after  that  he  put  on  his ; 
I  fancy  we  breakfasted  about  nine  o'clock  ;  when  we  got  to  the  end  of 
Henry  VIFs  chapel,  the  prisoner  would  have  gone  the  other  way  into 
the  Park  without  going  through  the  Abbey  j  I  took  hold  of  his  sleeve, 


and  said,  Barnard,  you  shall  go  through  the  Abbey ;  this  was  a  little 
after  a  eleven  ;  this  was  no  unusual  thing  j  we  have  several  times  walked 
in  the  Park,  and  sometimes  parted. 

Which  is  the  nearest  way  to  the  Park  } — I  do  not  know  which  is  the 
nearest  way,  through  the  Abbey,  or  by  the  side  of  it ;  this  was  the  first 
time  I  believe  that  I  ever,  saw  the  monument  of  General  Hargrave. 
After  that  we  walked  to  the  monument  erected  at  the  public  expence 
for  Captain  Cornwall ;  the  preacher  was  in  the  pulpit ;  when  we  were 
standing  at  Captain  Cornwall's  monument,  the  prisoner  made  some 
observation  on  the  execution  of  it  in  his  own  way.  After  we  had 
stayed  there  some  time,  I  saw  his  grace  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  who 
was  got  pretty  near  us  j  upon  seeing  the  duke,  I  jogged  him  by  the 
elbow,  and  said,  step  this  way  ;  he  seemed  to  look  at  him. 

Had  you  heard  what  happened  in  Hyde-Park,  previous  to  this  r — I 
had  j  I  believe  it  was  told  me  by  the  prisoner  at  the  bar ;  on  my  jogging 
him  we  walked  up  the  middle  aisle  towards  the  choir.  I  said,  Did  you 
see  that  gentleman  in  the  blue  coat,  or  do  you  know  him  ?  No,  said 
he,  not  I,  No,  said  I,  it  is  the  Duke  of  Marlborough ;  we  will  walk  to 
the  monument  again.  The  duke  came,  and  placed  himself  pretty  near 
me  a  second  time  j  after  this  we  walked  away.  I  believe  we  walked 
some  considerable  time  in  that  aisle  in  which  is  the  monument  of  Sir 
Godfrey  Kneller,  there  I  believe  we  passed  and  repassed  again. 

Why  did  you  jog  him  ? — Because  he  is  very  near-sighted.  At  last,  I 
think  it  so  happened,  we  passed  the  duke  between  two  of  the  pillars  j 
and  as  I  had  hold  of  his  arm  walking  together,  there  was  barely  room 
for  three  people  to  pass  a-breast  j  the  duke  rather  gave  way,  and  made, 
as  I  thought,  a  kind  of  a  bow.  Upon  this  I  said,  the  Duke  of  Marlbo- 
rough's  behaviour  is  extremely  particular  j  he  certainly  has  something  to 
say  to  you ;  1  suppose  he  does  not  choose  to  say  it  while  I  am  with  you, 
I  will  go  into  the  choir,  and  do  you  walk  up  and  down  here,  and  he  will 
possibly  speak  to  you.  While  I  was  there,  I  looked  j  the  first  thing  I 
saw  was  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  and  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  with 
their  heads  bowing  together,  as  if  it  was  the  first  salutation. 

Had  the  prisoner  the  least  inclination  to  go  into  the  Abbey  before  you 
proposed  it  to  him  ? — No  ;  he  did  not  discover  any. 

Did  he  discover  any  inclination  to  be  left  alone,  when  you  pro- 
posed to  go  into  the  choir  ? — No,  he  did  not  in  the  least ;  in  some  few 
minutes  after,  the  prisoner  and  I  met  together,  he  told  me  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough  was  gone  out  of  the  Abbey,  he  had  seen  him  go  out.  I 
said,  what  passed  ?  To  which  he  replied,  the  duke  said,  did  you  speak 
to  me?  or  who  spoke  first  I  cannot  tell. 

In  this  transaction  did  the  prisoner  appear  openly,  or  if  he  had  some 
secret  transaction  to  do  with  the  duke  ? — No,  it  was  open  and  clear. 

Did  you  see  the  duke  come  in  ? — No,  I  did  not ;  we  were  employed 
in  looking  at  the  monuments ;  we  looked  at  several. 

What  did  you  do  when  you  first  came  in  ? — We  walked  along,  and 
looked  on  the  monuments. 

Did  you  see  the  prisoner's  eye  fixed  on  any  person  ? — No,  I  did  not. 

Is  Mr.  Barnard  very  near  sighted  ? — He  is  ;  J  question  whether  he 
can  be  able  to  see  a  person  across  this  room. 

Where  did  you  go,  when  you  went  out  of  the  Abbey  ? — We  went  im- 
mediately into  the  Park  j  and  after  walking  there,  we  met  with  two 
ladies  whom  I  knew,  and  to  whom  Mr.  Barnard  was  not  unknown,  to 


whom  we  related  this  affair  j  he  always  repeated  these  things,  that  is, 
this  and  that  in  Hyde-Park,  as  matter  of  great  curiosity. 

How  long  have  you  been  acquainted  with  him  r — I  have  been  ac- 
quainted with  him  seven  years. 

What  is  his  character? — I  know  nothing  to  the  contrary  but  that  he 
is  an  industrious,  sober  young  man. 

Did  you  ever  hear  that  he  was  a  profligate,  expensive  man  ? — No,  never. 

His  father  is  in  great  business,  is  he  not  ? — His  father's  business  is  a 
very  considerable  thing. 

William  Ball,  sworn. 

Ball.  I  am  the  master  of  Storey's-gate  coffee-house ;  I  remember 
Mr.  Merrick  coming  to  my  house,  to  enquire  for  Mr.  Barnard  ;  he  asked 
me,  if  Mr.  Barnard  was  at  my  house?  I  said,  leave  any  message,  I  will 
deliver  it  to  him  j  he  said,  he  wanted  to  see  him  that  evening  ;  he  left  his 
message,  I  delivered  it  to  him,  and  he  came  rather  before  eight  o'clock  to 
him.  He  has  used  my  house  some  years,  always  a  well-behaved  man ;  I  never 
perceived  any  extravagancy  in  him,  always  a  sober,  regular  man.  I  have 
heard  him  speak  of  having  met  the  Duke  of  Maryborough,  but  not  till 
after  this  :  he  said  he  had  been  to  his  grace,  at  his  grace's  house  j  this 
was  as  he  called  at  my  house,  after  he  had  been  there. 

Did  he  mention  what  had  passed  ? — No,  he  did  not ;  only  that  he  had 
seen  his  grace. 


Did  he  not  tell  you  any  thing  that  passed  ? — He  did  not  tell  me  a 
syllable  of  it. 

What  did  you  say  to  him  } — I  told  him,  may-be  he  was  going  to  have 
a  commission  ;  he  said,  he  would  not  thank  his  grace,  except  it  was  a 
very  good  one. 

How  did  he  appear  as  to  cheerfulness,  or  dullness,  or  the  like  ? — He 
seemed  to  be  very  cheerful,  not  in  the  least  concerned  j  the  same  as 
usual,  composed,  rather  more  cheerful. 

Counsel.     We  will  now  shew  his  behaviour  after  he  was  apprehended. 

Mr.  Ford.  While  he  was  in  custody,  Mr.  Fielding  did  me  the  honour 
of  sending  for  me  ;  he  told  me  it  was  upon  some  business  which  con- 
cerned the  Duke  of  Marlborough's  life  ;  he  asked  me  to  go  along  with 
him  and  Mr.  Box  to  New  Prison,  which  I  consented  to  ;  we  went  toge- 
ther in  a  coach  j  this  was  about  twelve  at  night,  and  Mr.  Barnard  was 
then  in  bed  j  I  have  really  forgot  what  day  it  was :  Mr.  Fielding  told 
him,  he  had  omitted  examining  his  pockets  at  the  time  he  was  before 
him  -,  he  then  searched  his  pockets,  in  order  to  see  whether  he  had  any 
letters,  or  any  writings  that  might  give  light  into  the  affairs ;  he  very 
readily  let  me  look  into  his  pocket-book  and  papers.  Mr.  Fielding  with 
great  candour  told  him,  he  was  in  the  hands  of  a  very  honourable  pro- 
secutor, and  one  that  would  be  as  glad  to  discover  his  innocence  as  his 
guilt.  Mr.  Fielding  asked  him  for  his  keys,  and  he  gave  him  the  keys 
of  his  scrutoire  and  compting-house  with  great  readiness  ;  and  I  remem- 
ber that  I  then  told  him,  that,  if  he  was  guilty,  some  copies  might  be 
found  to  correspond  with  the  original  letters  ;  and  if  nothing  of  that 
sort  did  appear,  it  would  be  a  circumstance  in  his  favour. 

Did  you  or  Mr.  Fielding  tell  him  he  was  not  obliged  to  part  with  his 
keys,  and  did  he  do  it  as  a  matter  of  choice  ? — I  do  not  recollect  that ; 
I  know  he  parted  with  them  very  readily. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Markham  sworn. 

Dr.  Markham.     I  have  known  the  prisoner  some  years;  I  have  always 


considered  him  as  a  young  man  of  remarkable  sobriety,  and  attention  to 
business  :  I  have  had  some  experience  of  him ;  I  entrusted  him  with  the 
execution  of  some  matters  of  importance  relating  to  myself,  in  regard  to 
surveying  and  valuing  estates,  in  which  he  acquitted  himself  ably  and 
honestly  j  that  is  the  character  he  always  had  :  he  lives  in  my  neighbour- 
hood, his  father  is  a  man  of  considerable  property,  and  carries  on  a  large 

Then  you  don't  suppose  the  prisoner  to  be  in  distressed  circumstances? 
— I  never  supposed  it,  I  have  no  reason  to  imagine  it;  if  he  had  come 
to  me,  wanting  money,  he  might  easily  have  imposed  on  me,  he  might 
have  had  any  thing  of  me ;  he  is  one  of  the  chief  persons  I  trusted,  and 
I  don't  know  a  man  on  whom  I  would  have  had  a  greater  reliance ;  I 
thought  him  remarkably  able  in  his  business,  and  very  likely  to  be  a 
considerable  man ;  and  I  never  was  more  astonished  in  my  life  than 
when  I  heard  this  strange  story. 

Samual  Cox,  Esq.  sworn. 

S.  Cox.  I  have  known  Mr.  Barnard  about  the  space  of  three  years 
last  past.  The  beginning  of  my  acquaintance  was  on  the  account  of 
his  surveying  of  houses  in  the  New-Square,  Dean's-Yard  j  the  surveys 
were  generally  made  by  him  j  he  did  his  business  with  such  accuracy, 
that  I  have  always  thought  him  a  man  very  attentive  to  his  business,  and 
very  unlikely  of  being  charged  with  this  fact ;  and  upon  his  being  em- 
ployed upon  public  schemes,  I  employed  him  in  my  own  affairs.  I  em- 
ployed his  father  to  finish  some  houses  for  me  at  Hamersmith,  the  son 
was  constantly  employed  till  the  6th  of  April  last ;  I  have  at  different 
times  paid  to  Mr.  Barnard  about  £700  all  paid  into  the  hands  of  the 
prisoner,  except  £50  or  £70  of  it.  He  has  appeared  as  the  person  that 
managed  his  father's  business :  if  he  had  come  to  me,  and  mentioned 
any  want  of  money,  upon  his  father's  being  out  of  town,  or  that  like,  he 
might  have  had  £200  or  £30Q  at  any  time.  When  I  first  was  acquainted 
with  him,  I  observed  he  had  a  remarkable  short  sight  j  when  he  has  looked 
full  at  me,  I  have  thought  he  sneered  at  me  ;  he  has  such  a  fall  with  his 
eye-lids  on  the  account  of  his  short-sightedness  ;  I  have  found  his  eyes 
so  fixed  upon  me,  that  I  have  been  going  to  speak  to  him,  which  by  my 
long  acquaintance  with  him  I  since  found  was  only  an  accident. 
Robert  Vansittart,  Esq.  sworn. 

R.  Vansittart.  I  have  known  Mr.  Barnard  about  five  or  six  years  j 
my  acquaintance  with  him  was  by  being  acquainted  with  his  father,  who 
was  employed  in  carrying  on  a  large  building  for  Mr.  Lee,  an  acquaint- 
ance of  mine  in  Oxfordshire  j  and  these  five  years  I  have  been  ac- 
quainted with  the  son,  and  frequently  in  company  with  him.  In  the  be- 
ginning of  April  he  was  in  my  chamber,  putting  up  some  book-cases  ; 
I  remember  one  morning  'at  breakfast  he  told  me  the  circumstance  of 
meeting  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  in  Hyde-Park  and  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  in  the  same  way  as  the  Court  has  been  told  from  his  grace  and 
the  rest  of  the  witnesses  :  it  appeared  to  me  to  be  a  very  strange  story, 
and  he  seemed  to  tell  it  as  such,  as  I  or  any  body  else  would  have  told  it. 
I  suspended  my  judgment  upon  it,  and  never  related  it  to  any  body,  only 
to  my  father  and  another  gentleman,  and  they  looked  upon  it  as  a  great 
lie  that  Barnard  had  invented  j  I,  knowing  his  character,  did  not  take  it 
as  such,  but  thought  he  must  have  known  it  to  be  as  he  said. 

What  is  your  opinion  of  him  as  to  his  business  ? — From  my  own  per- 
sonal acquaintance  with  him,  and  from  the  many  surveys  I  have  seen  of 


his,  be  certainly   is  very  capable  and  master  of  his  business.      I  never 
heard  any  thing  ill  as  to  his  private  character. 

Did  you  ever  see  him  write  ? — No ;  he  draws  very  well;  I  have  seen 
him  draw. 

John  Smith,  Esq.  sworn. 

J.  Smith.  I  have  known  him  eight  or  ten  years,  and  his  father's 
family  twenty-five.  He  always  appeared  an  industrious,  sober,  diligent 
man,  particularly  within  these  four  or  five  years,  since  he  has  come  into 
business  wilh  his  father.  I  considered  him  as  a  very  promising  genius 
in  his  way,  and  one  capable  of  conducting  his  business  with  reputation 
and  character. 

Did  you  look  upon  him  likely  to  be  driven  to  distress,  or  in  want  of  a 
place  ? — No,  I  did  not.  I  can  with  great  truth  say,  most  of  the  pay- 
ments in  my  compting-house,  on  his  father's  account,  have  most  of 
them  been  paid  by  the  hands  of  this  young  man ;  except  the  last  £500  ; 
then  Mr.  Barnard  and  his  wife  came  over  and  dined  with  me,  and  paid 
it  j  and  then  I  blamed  him  for  not  bringing  his  son. 

What  are  you  ?     I  am  a  timber  merchant. 

Joshua  Smith,  Esq.,  sworn. 

Josh.  Smith,  I  am  in  partnership  with  my  father,  the  last  evidence. 
I  have  known  the  prisoner  several  years  ;  I  always  thought  him  a  very 
honest,  sober  man,  capable  in  his  profession :  the  money  that  has  been 
paid  to  us  lately,  except  that  £500,  has  been  by  him ;  they  never  paid 
less  than  £100  at  a  time,  except  once. 

Have  you  any  reason  to  imagine  him  in  desperate  circumstances? — 
There  is  no  reason  as  I  know  of  to  imagine  so. 
Robert  Tunstall,  Esq.  sworn. 

R.  Tunstall.     I  have  known  him  two  years. 

What  is  his  general  character? — He  is  industrious,  and  very  capable 
of  his  business.     His   behaviour  has  been  prudent ;  he  is  the  principal 
man  in  his  father's  business  in  drawing  and  scheming.* 
Mr.  Peter  Brit  shell  sworn. 

P.  Brushell.     I  have  known  him  from  a  child. 

What  ,s  his  character  ? — I  always  took  him  to  be  a  very  sober,  honest 
man.  His  father  has  done  a  great  deal  of  business  for  me,  and  is  now 
at  work  for  me. 

Who  did  you  generally  pay  the  money  to  ? — I  generally  paid  the 
father  j  if  the  prisoner  had  applied  to  me,  I  would  have  let  him  have 
£100  at  any  time. 

Is  he  capable  of  business  ? — He  is  very  capable :  he  drew  a  plan 
for  me  last  Saturday  was  se'nnight. 

Did  you  look  upon  him  to  be  in  desperate  or  distressed  circumstances  ? 
No,  I  did  not. 

Has  he  always  been  a  visible  man  ? — Always. 
Mr.  Jelfe  sworn. 

Jelfe.  I  am  the  king's  mason.  1  have  known  the  prisoner  seven 
years  or  more. 

Do  you  look  upon  him  to  be  capable  of  his  business  ? — I  believe 
he  is  a  very  capable  man  in  his  business. 

What  is  his  general  character? — Always  a  very  worthy,  honest  man. 

Did  you  ever  see  him  guilty  of  any  extravagancy  ? — No,  never. 

Do  you  live  near  him  ? — I  am  a  very  near  neighbour  to  him,  and  keep 
him  company  on  evenings,  within  this  year  or  two  more  particularly. 

*  Mr.  John  Barnard,  the  father  of  the  prisoner,  built  Kew  Bridge  for  this  Mr.  Tunstall. 


William  Robinson,  Esq.  sworn. 

Robinson.     I  have  known  him  about  six  or  seven  years. 
Is  he  a  person  capable  of  his  profession  ? — I  believe  he  is. 
What   has  been  his  behaviour? — I  always  looked  upon  him  to   be 
a  very  sober,  diligent,  frugal  man. 

Did  you  look  upon  him  to  be  in  desperate  circumstances  ? — No,  not 
at  all. 

Thomas  Kynaston,  Esq.  sworn. 
Kynaston.     I  have  known  him  six  or  seven  years. 
What  are  you  ? — I  belong  to  the  board  of  works. 
What  is  your  opinion  of  the  prisoner's  situation  ? — I  think  he  is  in  a 
good  one. 

What  has  been  his  behaviour  ? — That  has  been  always  good. 

Mr.  Keynton  Cowse  sworn. 

Cowse.  I  have  known  him  seven  years,  and  been  in  his  company 
many  times. 

What  is  his  character  ? — He  is  a  very  worthy  young  man,  sober  and 
industrious,  always  attending  his  father's  business. 

Mr.  Uffort  sworn. 

Uffort.  I  have  known  him  about  six  or  seven  years  ;  he  is  a  sober 
sedate  young  man  as  ever  I  met  with.  I  have  done  business  for  him 
several  times. 

Mr.  Brent  sworn. 

Brent.     I  have  known. him  upwards  of  three  years. 
What  is  his  character  ? — He  has  a  good  character  j  he  is  a  very  indus- 
trious man.     I  have  frequently  paid  him  money. 

Mr.  Jones   sworn. 

Jones.     I  have  known  him  several  years. 

What  is  his  general  character? — He  is  very  honest;  no  ways 
extravagant,  that  could  lead  him  in  into  a  desperate  state  j  he  is  as 
moral  a  man  as  any  I  know,  and  has  had  as  good  a  character. 

Mr.  Wilson  sworn. 

Wilson.     I  have  known  him  about  seven  years. 

What  has  been  his  behaviour  during  that  time  ? — It  has  been  always 
very  well.  I  always  looked  upon  him  as  an  honest  man. 

Did  you  ever  look  upon  him  to  be  in  a  desperate  way  in  his  fortune  ? 
— No,  never. 

Q  to  Mr.  Barnard  the  elder.  Where  was  you  when  your  son  was  sent 
for  to  the  Duke  of  Marl  borough's  ? — Mr.  Barnard.  I  was  then  out 
of  town.  I  have  not  been  in  town  above  one  week  these  five  or  six 

Mr.  Sergeant  Davy,  evidently  shaken  in  his  own  mind  by  these 
witnesses,  commented  in  his  reply,  with  much  acumen  though  fairly, 
on  the  evidence  ;  when  he  had  concluded,  the  jury  at  once  acquitted  the 
prisoner,  and  a  second  indictment  against  him  was  then  abandoned 
by  the  prosecution.  To  complete  the  mystery,  the  Duke  died  within  the 
year  of  the  period  of  this  investigation,  before  the  session  had  expired,  and 
the  matter  remains  to  this  day  unexplained. 




And  dance  and  song  within  these  walls  have  sounded, 
And  breathing  music  rolled  in  dulcet  strains, 

And  lovely  feet  have  o'er  these  gray  stones  bounded 
In  snowy  garments  and  embroidered  trains  — 

Such  things  have  been. 

ABOUT  nine  miles  rapid  railroad  travelling  brought  me  from  the  metropo- 
lis of  the  Emerald  Isle  to  the  lofty  promontory,  called  in  ancient  Irish  by 
the  appropriate  name  of  Ben  eider  or  the  Eagle's  Cliff.     In  those  primi- 
tive ages  its   secluded  position — the  extreme  point  of  the  coast — and 
the  sterile  aspect  of  the  rough  hillsides  affording  little  temptation  to  the 
agriculturist,  left  it  the  retreat  for  religious  men,  bent  on  avoiding  a 
wordly  life,  and,  if  these  lovers  of  retirement  wished  to  attain  a  still 
more  retired  habitation,  the  neighbouring  Island  of  Lambay  lay  conve- 
niently near.     Between  Lambay  and  the  coast  is  Ireland's  Eye,  distant 
about  a  mile — a  mass  of  irregularly  shaped  rocks,  with  little  soil  on  the 
surface,  and  measuring   about  a   mile   and    a   half   in    circumference. 
Here  are  the  remains  of  an  ancient  church,  founded  by  St.  Nissan,  in  the 
sixth  century,  and  the  venerated  book  of  the  Four  Gospels,  called  the 
"  Garland  of  Howth/'  was  preserved  here.    Opposite,   on  the  bold  cliff, 
overhanging:  the  sea,  are  the  picturesque  ruins  of  the  Abbey,  or  College 
of   Howth,  supposed   to   have    been  built  by  Sitric,   a  Danish  Prince, 
A.D.  1038.     The  ruins  are  very  magnificent,  enclosed  in  a  quadrangular 
area  defended  by  a  rampart — the  embattled  walls  pleasingly  contrasting 
with  the  peaceful  aspect  of  the  time  worn  ruins.     The  church- yard  is 
shamefully  allowed   to  become  a  perfect  garden   of  weeds.     I    could 
hardly  make  any  way  through  the  groves  of  nettles,  and  other  weeds 
which  cover  the  entire  space  ;  some  effort  is  made  to  preserve  the  build- 
ings, and  a  strong  iron  railing  protects  a  curious  old  monument  to  one 
of  the  Lords   Howth,  and  his  Lady,  whose  effigies,  in  their  respective 
habiliments,  are  wrought  in  the   stone  forming  the  lid.     The  date  is 
1430.      Not   far   distant    is    Howth   Castle.      The   entrance,   close   to 
the  church,  is  modern,  yet  tasteful  j  clusters  of  circular    granite  pillars 
with  conical  capitals   support  massive   iron  gates,  and  open  on  a  well 
kept   very  exclusive  demesne.     The  castle  is  a  long,  rather  low,  struc- 
ture, flanked  by  square  battlemented   towers    at  the  angles,    and  the 
square  hall  door  in  the  centre,  surmounted  by  a  pediment,  is  approached 
by  a  lofty  flight  of  steps.     The  hall  is  a  very  fine  one,  and  the  lover  of 
antiquities  has  a  treat.     Antique  armour — the  weapons  of  days  when 
war  was  the  profession  of  most   men — are   here.     A  large  two-handed 
sword  is  pointed  out  as  having  belonged  to  the  founder  of  the  family, 


whose  adventures  by  flood  and  field  rival  any  recounted  in  romance  or 
fable.  The  name  of  Sir  Armoricus  Tristram  deserves  to  be  recorded. 
He  it  was  who  formed  the  compact  with  his  brother-in-law  Sir  John 
De  Courcy,  in  St.  Mary's  church  at  Rouen,  that  they  should  become 
brothers  in  arms  as  well  as  brothers  in  love,  and  whatever  spoil  they  should 
take,  in  land  or  wealth,  should  be  equally  divided  between  them.  On 
the  strength  of  this  agreement,  they  sought  achievements  in  various 
parts  of  France  and  England,  and  turning  their  prow  westward  they 
"steered  their  bark  for  Erin's  Isle,"  and  anchored  off  Howth.  De 
Courcy  was  confined  to  the  ship  by  sickness,  and  the  command  devolv- 
ing on  Sir  Armoricus,  he  ordered  a  landing.  The  Irish  assembled  in 
haste,  but  not  arriving  in  time  to  prevent  the  invaders  reaching  the  shore, 
attacked  them  at  the  bridge  of  Evora,  which  crosses  a  mountain  stream 
on  the  north  side  of  Howth.  This  conflict  was  maintained  on  both 
sides  with  the  desperate  valour  of  men  preferring  to  die  than  yield. 
Seven  sons  of  Sir  Armoricus  were  slain,  together  with  many  of  his 
kindred,  but  the  Irish  were  routed.  In  clearing  out  the  foundation  of 
a  church  built  on  the  spot  some  years  since,  a  quantity  of  bones  were 
discovered,  together  with  an  antique  anvil,  with  bridle,  bits,  and  other 
accoutrements.  This  might  hare  been  the  armourer's  anvil  used  in 
closing  up  the  rivets  preparatory  to  the  engagement.  The  result  of  the 
victory  was  to  give  the  lands  and  castle  of  Howth  to  the  gallant  Sir 
Armoricus,  as  his  share  of  the  conquest.  The  account  of  his  death  is 
a  strong  proof  of  his  valour.  While  engaged  with  some  of  his  knights 
in  making  an  incursion  into  Connaught,  they  were  surprised  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  superior  force — yet  a  chance  of  escape  existed — the 
knights  suggested  to  avail  themselves  of  the  swiftness  of  their  steeds 
and  save  themselves  by  flight,  but  Sir  Armoricus  disdained  life  on  such 
terms.  He  dismounted  from  his  gallant  charger,  drew  his  sword,  and 
kissing  the  cross  forming  the  guard,  thrust  it  into  his  horse's  side.  His 
example  was  followed  by  all  the  knights  except  two,  who  acted  as 
videttes,  and  they  alone  returned  to  tell  the  sad  tale  that  the  brave 
Sir  Armoricus,  and  his  companions,  died  as  became  Norman  knights,  with 
their  faces  to  the  foeman.  The  family  name  was  changed  from 
Tristram  to  St.  Lawrence  on  the  following  occasion.  One  of  the  lords  of 
the  race  commanded  an  army  about  to  engage  in  battle  against  the  Danes 
on  St.  Lawrence's  Day.  He  made  a  vow  to  the  Saint  that  if  victorious 
he  would  assume  the  name  of  St.  Lawrence,  and  entail  it  on  his 
posterity.  The  Danes  fled  and  the  name  retained. 

A  long  flight  of  steps  leads  from  the  hall  to  a  chamber,  in  which  is  a  pic- 
ture representing  a  female  figure  mounted  on  a  white  horse,  in  the  act  of 
receiving  a  child  from  a  peasant.  This  is  supposed  to  refer  to  the  tradition 
of  the  celebrated  Granu  Uile,  or  Grace  O'Malley,  who,  returning  from  the 
Court  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  landed  at  Howth,  and  proceeded  to  the  castle, 
but  found  the  gates  shut,  the  family  having  gone  to  dinner.  Enraged 
at  this  utter  want  of  Irish  hospitality,  the  indignant  chieftainess  proceeded 
to  the  shore,  where  the  young  lord  was  at  nurse,  hurried  with  him  on  board, 
and  sailed  to  Connaught  where  her  castle  stood.  An  ample  apology 
being  made  and  promise  of  future  hospitality  to  all  such  guests,  l  the 
child  was  restored,  on  the  express  stipulation  that  the  gates  should  be 
always  thrown  open  when  the  family  went  to  dinner.  There  is  a  bed 
shown  in  which  King  William  III  slept.  In  the  saloon  is  a  full  length 
of  that  curious  combination  of  good  and  evil — Dean  Swift,  with  the 


draper's  letters  in  his  hand.  The  notorious  Wood  is  crouching  beside 
him,  and  his  half-pence  are  scattered  about.  In  a  most  entertaining  and 
ably  written  work,  "The  Homes  and  Haunts  of  the  Poets,"  Mr.  Howitt 
has  taken  some  pains  to  prove  that  Mr.  Wood  was  not  at  all  to  blame, 
and  much  more  "  sinned  against  than  sinning." 

The  antiquity  of  this  family  in  Ireland  may  be  judged  from  the  fore- 
going remarks.  The  title  of  Baron  was  conferred  so  far  back  as 
1177,  a  few  years  after  the  arrival  of  the  English.  In  1^67  the 
Barony  was  merged  in  the  title  of  Viscount  St.  Lawrence,  then 
created  Earl  of  Howth.  The  alliances  and  offices  filled  by  various 
members  of  this  noble  house  would  occupy  a  large  space  j  the  fifteenth 
Baron  was  Lord  Chancellor  of  Ireland,  A.D.  1483 ;  he  married  the 
second  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Somerset,  which  entitles  Lord  Howth 
to  claim  descent  from  the  renowned  English  Monarch  King  Edward  III. 
The  present  peer  is  the  29th  in  succession  from  the  founder  of  the  family, 
Sir  Armoricus  Tristram.  The  Earl  married,  in  1826,  Lady  Emily  de 
Burgh,  second  daughter  of  the  late  Earl  of  Clanricarde,  and  has  one  son 
and  four  daughters :  the  beautiful  and  amiable  Countess  died  in  1842,  to 
the  universal  regret  of  every  one  who  had  the  honour  of  her  acquaint- 
ance. His  eldest  son,  the  Viscount  St.  Lawrence,  is  a  Lieutenant  in 
the  7th  Hussars,  and  is  at  present  on  the  Staff  of  his  Excellency  the 
Earl  of  Clarendon,  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland. 

p,  co.  Corfe, 


"  Swift  Anniduff,  which  of  the  Englishman 
Is  called  Blackwater," 

WASHES  the  trunks  of  tall  trees  that  fringe  the  lawns  of  Renny,  and  the 
Irish  Rhine,  as  this  noble  river  has  been  justly  termed,  still  murmurs  past 
a  magnificent  oak,  under  the  shade  of  whose  far  stretching  boughs  the 
Poet  of  the  Age,  Edmund  Spencer,  is  said  to  have  composed  the  Faerie 
Queene.  And  to  this  monarch  of  the  wood  comes  many  an  humble 
bard,  desirous  to  pay  the  tribute  of  his  homage  ;  full  of  veneration  for 
the  genius  which  nourished  beneath  its  branches.  What  glorious  aspi- 
rations were  poured  forth  on  the  spot  ?  How  many  splendid  stanzas, 
rich  in  wondrous  imagery,  and  brilliant  thoughts,  found  a  voice  and 
birth  under  this  tree !  It  is  a  meet  spot  for  a  poet  to  compose  in.  The 
banks  here  are  high  and  precipitous,  and  clothed  in  wood,  and  their  soli- 
tude would  lead  you  to  suppose  the  busy  world  shut  out,  and  this  the 
happy  valley  of  Rasselas.  The  fame  of  this  tree  is  a  great  attraction  to 
Renny,  and  Spencer's  Oak  is  regarded  with  becoming  honour.  Though 
there  is  no  doubt  that  Renny  formed  a  portion  of  the  poet's  estate  in  this 
county,  his  usual  residence  was  several  miles  distant  at  Kilcolman  Castle  ; 
and,  it  was  not  until  after  his  death,  which  was  hastened  by  the  ruin  of 
his  fortune  attending  the  destruction  of  Kilcolman  by  the  insurgents  in 
1597,  that  his  family  occupied  Renny  prominently.  This  property  was 
a  portion  of  the  great  Desmond  estate,  from  which  Edmund  Spencer 
obtained  a  grant  of  3028  acres.  And  close  by  the  Mansion-house  are 
the  venerable  remains  of  a  castle,  boldly  situated  on  the  verge  of  a  mag- 
nificent ledge  of  rocks.  This  castle  is  considered  to  have  belonged  to 

RUNNY.  127 

the  Geraldines.  The  dwelling  of  the  Spencers  lay  in  the  rear  of  the 
present  house,  which  is  not  of  any  antiquity,  and  some  of  the  rooms  have 
been  turned  to  account.  In  one,  now  used  as  a  dairy,  there  is  a  tragical 
circumstance  related  as  having  occurred  to  a  descendant  of  Spencer's. 
He  had  contracted  an  intimacy  with  his  housekeeper,  which  she  expected 
would  cause  him  to  marry  her — great  was  her  anger  to  learn  that  he  was 
on  the  eve  of  consigning  her  to  infamy,  by  marrying  another.  She  resolved 
on  vengeance,  and,  while  in  the  act  of  shaving  him,  as  was  the  habit  of 
this  Lothario,  she  cut  his  throat.  This  Mr.  O'Flanagan  correctly  states 
in  his  Guide  to  the  Blackwater  to  have  occurred  in  the  small  antique 
dwelling  at  Renny  j  but  he  does  not, — as  Mr.  Howitt  in  the  "  Homes  and 
Haunts  of  British  Poets,"  attributes  to  him — thereby  mean  the  present 
mansion,  which,  as  the  latter  writer  justly  observes,  is  a  good  modern 

Renny-House,  formerly  the  property  of  the  Reverend  C.  Wallis,  who 
evidently  aspired  to  high  dignities  in  the  church,  as  the  stone  mitres  on 
the  gate  piers  attest,  is  a  quiet  respectable  country  seat.  The  rooms  are 
well  proportioned,  and  commodious,  and  afford  several  exquisite  views. 
One,  from  the  large  drawing  room,  is  a  perfect  picture.  It  takes  in  a 
shelving  steep  bank  well  wooded,  and  overlooking  a  spacious  dell,  with 
the  bright  mirror-like  river  flowing  through  fair  meadowy  niches. 
This  charming  landscape  presents  a  constant  variety,  every  change  of 
sky  causing  a  change  of  aspect.  Now  the  sun  is  gleaming  on  hill  and 
tree,  and  wave,  and  all  is  brilliant  and  gay.  A  cloud  dulls  the  heavens, 
and  darkness  comes  on,  and  black  shadows  steal  out  like  robbers  from 
gloomy  caves,  and  mists  hang  on  the  hill  tops.  A  little  distance  from 
the  house  the  path  leads  round  an  angle  of  wood,  and  majestic  rocks 
stands  before  us.  Here  all  is  sublime  and  beautiful,  not  ideal,  such  as 
Burke  wrote  on,  but  real  and  substantial.  These  giant  rocks  rise  up  bold 
and  frowning,  a  rugged  feature  in  the  quiet  scene.  Some  natural  caverns 
seem  scooped  in  their  sides,  and  water  lies  at  the  base.  These  rocks  are 
surmounted  by  the  buildings,  and  the  ancient  walls  of  the  Fitz-Gerald 
Castle,  still  crown  the  top.  Fine  pasture  lands  stretch  from  the  base,  and 
lowing  herds  of  cattle,  and  flocks  of  fleecy  sheep,  and  sportive  lambs, 
brouse  to  their  full  content.  Some  slender  greyhounds  chasing  each 
other  in  rapid  circles  gave  animation  to  the  scene.  We  gazed,  and  gra- 
tified our  curiosity  by  a  minute  survey  of  the  dwelling  with  its  pretty 
garden  and  ruined  castle,  the  spreading  lawn  and  its  fine  clumps  of  trees 
shading  the  flocks  and  herds,  the  massive  rocks  forming  the  solid  foun- 
dation for  the  mansion,  the  wooded  slopes  descending  the  meadows,  the 
river  flowing  hurriedly  past,  and  Spencer's  oak  with  its  hallowed  associa- 
tion of  poetry  and  history,  until  in  the  words  of  Wilson — 

Thus  gently  blended  many  a  human  thought, 
With  those  that  peace  and  solitude  supplied  ; 
Till  in  our  hearts  the  musing  kindness  wrought 
With  gradual  influence  like  a  flowing  tide, 
And  for  the  lovely  sound  of  human  voice  we  sighed. 

VOL.    IV.    NO.   XVI. 



THERE  are  few  subjects  connected  with  the  history  of  Ireland,  which 
furnish  more  interesting  matter  for  inquiry  than  the  laws  that  regu- 
late the  descent  of  the  ancient  baronies  of  that  kingdom,  many  of  which 
still  remain  in  the  possession  of  the  male  heirs  of  the  original  grantee, 
and  are  enjoyed  by  them,  while  the  remainder  have  become  extinct,  dor- 
mant or  in  abeyance. 

This  subject  has  been  ably  treated  by  several  genealogical  writers,* 
more  especially  by  Mr.  Lynch,  who  in  his  "Feudal  Dignities  of  Ireland," 
and  "  Case  of  Prescriptive  Baronies/'  has  with  great  labour  and  research 
nearly,  if  not  altogether,  determined  that  none  of  those  ancient  baro- 
nies could  be  inherited  by  heirs  female. 

Yet,  however  great  diversity  of  opinion  still  exists  on  this  subject, 
many  claims  have  within  the  last  few  years  been  put  forward  by  the 
representatives  of  female  lines,  and  several  of  the  most  eminent  counsel 
of  the  Irish  bar,  some  of  whom  now  sit  on  the  bench  of  that  kingdom, 
have  given  decided  and  strong  opinions  in  favour  of  such  claims. 

The  importance  of  this  subject  will  be  known  from  the  fact,  that  if 
such  claims  be  admitted,  the  effect  will  be  to  place,  in  all  probability, 
nearly  fifty  different  families  in  the  place  and  precedence  of  the  ancient 
baronies  of  Ireland,  which  they  represent  through  female  heirs,  and  con- 
sequently to  declare  that  those  peers,  who  now  hold  baronies  as  male 
heirs  of  the  first  grantees,  have  been  wrongfully  created  peers  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  female  heirs,  and  enjoy  the  place  and  precedence  of  such 
original  baronies  through  mistake. 

In  the  following  pages  we  propose  taking  a  review  of  the  subject,  and 
to  shew  the  descent  of  the  original  baronies  of  Ireland,  adding  the  ar- 
guments which  have  been  put  forward  on  both  sides  of  the  question,  as 
to  the  singular  difference^  which  exists  between  the  rules  which  regulate 
the  descent  of  such  baronies  in  England,  and  the  rules  which  regulate 
those  of  Ireland,  or  at  least  which  custom  has  all  but  established  in  the 
latter  kingdom. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  remark,  that  in  the  former  kingdom  the 
early  baronies,  created  by  writ  of  summons,  have  invariably  descended 
to  the  female  heir,  or  if  coheirs,  it  has  gone  into  abeyance  amongst  them, 
and  lain  dormant  until  such  time  as  the  crown  has  been  pleased  to  ter- 
minate the  abeyance  in  favour  of  some  one  of  the  coheirs  or  their  repre- 
sentatives, and  thus  many  of  these  baronies  have  been  inherited,  (as  in 
the  case  of  the  baronies  of  de  Ros,  le  de  Spencer,  &c.f)  by  many  different 
families  passing  in  and  out,  through  heirs  and  coheirs. 

*  Cruise,  on  Dignities  ;  Sir  John  Davis'  Reports,  Case  of  County  Palatine ;  Coke's 
Institutes,  County  Palatine  of  Chester. 

f  De  Ros  has  passed  by  a  coheir  to  the  Manners,  Earls  of  Rutland,  from  them  to 
the  Cecils,  Earls  of  Exeter,  back  to  the  Manners,  then  to  the  Villiers,  Dukes  of  Buck- 
ingham, then  to  the  sisters  and  heirs  of  Manners,  6th  Earl  of  Rutland,  when  the 


ON    IRISH    BARONIKS    BY    WRIT.  129 

While,  on  the  other  hand,  in  Ireland,  baronies  created  by  the  same  form 
of  writ,  by  the  same  king,  have  in  every  instance,  except  one  (which 
shall  be  mentioned  hereafter,)  gone  to  the  heirs  male  of  the  original 
grantee,  passing  over  in  all  but  the  one  instance  the  claims  of  heirs  female, 
it  is  the  singular  anomaly  we  would  here  discuss,  endeavouring  to  place 
before  the  reader  the  different  arguments  which  have  been  adduced  in 
favour  of  each  rule  of  descent  by  those  who  have  examined  and  treated 
on  the  points  involved  in  the  question. 

It  cannot  be  doubted,  that,  after  the  conquest  of  Ireland  by  Henry  II. 
King  of  England,  all  the  early  feudal  dignities  and  titles  introduced 
into  the  former  kingdom  were  founded  on  the  same  laws,  customs  and 
usages,  as  those  which  regulated  the  honours  then  existing  in  England  ; 
and  it  is  but  reasonable  to  suppose  that  those  who  introduced  them 
into  Ireland  would  found  them  on  the  same  principles  as  regulated  those 
of  the  kingdom  whence  they  came,  and  by  which  many  of  them  held 
dignities  there  themselves. 

Sir  Hugh  de  Lacy  received  as  a  reward  for  his  valour  the  entire 
county  of  Meath,  which  was  erected  into  a  palatine  honour  for  him  ; 
this  enabled  him  to  grant,  as  lord  of  that  palatine,  rights  and  liberties 
which  constituted  the  grantee  a  baron  of  such  honour.  It  is  not  in- 
tended hereto  enter  into  any  discussion  as  to  the  nature  and  constitution  of 
these  baronies,  which  were  without  doubt  modelled  on  the  baronies  of  the 
palatines  of  England,  and  gave  to  the  possessor  all  the  rights  and  privileges 
and  powers  which  belonged  to  what  was  then  called  a  barony.  There 
is  however  conclusive  evidence  that  the  baronies  created  of  the  palatine 
of  Meath  passed  in  several  different  instances  to  heirs  female,  and  that 
their  descendants  were  thence  denominated.* 

The  lordship  of  Meath  itself  was  divided  between  the  two  daughters 
and  coheirs  of  Gilbert  de  Lacy,  grandson  of  Hugh  de  Lacy,  the  first 
lord,  the  elder  of  whom,  Maud,  having  married  Geoffrey  de  Geneville, 
conveyed  to  him  the  lordship  of  Trim,  and  a  moiety  of  Meath,  and  Mar- 
gery, the  youngest  coheir,  conveyed  to  her  husband,  the  Lord  John  de 
Verdon,  the  remaining  moiety.  There  is  also  equally  satisfactory  evi- 
dence as  to  the  descent  of  the  province  of  Leinster,  the  great  heritage  of 
the  De  Clares,  which  came  to  the  Marshals,  by  marriage  with  Isabel  de 
Clare,  the  heiress  of  Richard  Strongbow,  and  which  great  inheritance 
was  finally  divided  amongst  her  daughters  and  coheirs  on  the  decease 

abeyance  was  terminated  in  favour  of  Charlotte  Walsingham,  wife  of  Lord  Henry  Fitz- 
gerald, in  whose  descendants  it  now  remains. 

The  barony  of  Le  de  Spencer,  passed  by  a  female  line  to  the  Beauchamps,  Earls  of 
Worcester,  thence  to  the  Nevilles,  thence  to  the  Fanes,  Earls  of  Westmoreland,  then 
to  the  Dashwoods,  to  the  Pauls,  and  now  exists  in  the  Stapyltons. 

*  Colmolyn  passed  from  the  Fitz  Leons,  to  the  Genevilles,  and  Simon  de  Geneville 
was  denominated  Lord  Colmolyn,  and  thence  to  the  Cusacks,  the  death  of  one  of  whom 
is  entered  on  the  Roll  of  the  Mortelege  of  Kells.  "  Dom.  John  La  Culmolyn,  1370. 

Delvin,  held  by  the  Nugents,  went  to  the  Fitz  Johns,  and  back  again  to  the  Nugems, 
through  female  heirs.  Killcen  went  from  the  Cusacks  to  the  Tuites,  back  again  to 
the  Cusacks,  and  then  to  the  Plunkets.  These  two  latter  baronies  having  been  since 
that  date  in  the  Nugent  and  PJunket  families,  it  has  become  a  question  how  far  the 
present  peerages  were  inherited  by  the  present  Lords  of  Delvin  and  Killeen,  or  whether 
they  are  new  creations  wrongly  placed  in  the  precedence  of  the  old  baronies,  which  is 
the  point  we  are  now  treating  of,  and  the  descent  of  which  will  be  more  fully  ex- 
plained hereafter. 

L  2 

130  ON    IUISH    BARONIES    BY    WRIT. 

of  their  brothers,  without  issue,  a  portion  of  which  was  inherited  by  the 
Fitzgeralds,  and  constituted  the  barony  of  Ophaley  or  Offtdey,  still  held 
by  their  descendants. 

Thus  then  it  appears  that  the  ancient  feudal  baronies  of  Ireland  fol- 
lowed the  same  rules  of  descent  as  similar  honours  in  England,  for  at 
least  the  first  two  centuries  after  the  conquest  of  that  kingdom  ;  when 
therefore  we  find  at  a  later  period  the  descendants  of  those  very  persons, 
who  themselves  inherited  from  heirs  female,  summoned  by  the  title  of  the 
barony  thus  inherited,  in  the  usual  form  of  a  writ  of  summons,  and 
afterwards  this  barony  not  passing  in  the  natural  course  of  descent  to 
heirs  female,  but  to  the  inheritor  of  the  estate  as  heirs  male,  we  can 
only  come  to  the  conclusion,  that  such  barony  was  either  one  of  tenure, 
or  that  the  heirs  female  were  wrongly  disposessed,  or  that  some  remarkable 
alteration  occurred  at  a  later  period  which  altered  the  usual  course  of 
descent  in  Ireland,  making  it  different  from  that  of  England.  In  exa- 
mining these  three  points,  and  describing  the  singular  anomaly  which 
exists,  it  will  be  necessary  first  therefore  to  trace  the  origin  of  a  writ  of 
summons  to  parliament  in  Ireland. 

To  the  parliament  held  in  1295,  only  twenty-nine  persons  were  sum- 
moned ;  while  to  that  held  in  1309  at  Kilkenny,  eighty-seven  were  sum- 
moned, a  very  large  increase  in  so  few  years  ;  and  the  only  account  of 
which  we  have  is  given  by  Spenser,  in  his  view  of  Ireland,  who  also 
alludes  to  the  introduction  of  peerages  by  writ.  The  passage  alluded  is 
as  follows  : 

"Eudoxius. — You  say  well,  for  by  means  of  freeholders  their  number 
hereby  will  be  greatly  augmented  ;  but  how  shall  it  pass  in  the  higher 
house,  which  still  must  consist  of  all  Irish  ?" 

"  Ireeneus. — Marry  that  also  may  be  redressed  by  ensamples  of  that 
which  I  have  heard  was  done  in  like  case  by  King  Edward  the  Third, 
(second)  as  I  remember,  who  being  greatly  bearded  and  crossed  by  the 
Lords  of  the  Clergy,  they  being  then  by  reason  of  the  Lord  Abbots  and 
others  too  many,  and  too  strong  for  him,  so  that  he  could  not  for  their 
frowardness  order  and  reform  things  as  he  desired,  was  advised  to  direct 
out  his  writs  to  certaine  gentlemen  of  the  best  ability  and  trust,  entitling 
them  barons  in  the  next  parliament,  by  which  means  he  had  so  many 
barons  in  his  parliament  as  were  able  to  weigh  down  the  clergy  and 

.\        •/»•«_.  D  O*' 

their  friends. 

All  statutes  which  were  enacted  in  England,  were  immediately  certified 
in  Ireland,  and  became  law  there;  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  at  a  very 
early  period  after  the  settlement  of  the  constitution  of  England  and  the  di- 
vision of  the  Great  Council  of  the  nation  into  two  houses,  the  same  change 
was  made  in  Ireland, and,  as  would  appear  from  the  above  extract,  the  ba- 
rons were  summoned  in  the  same  manner  as  in  England.  The  following 
writ  to  the  celebrated  parliament  of  Kilkenny  in  1309,  will  shew 
the  form  used.  It  is  also  to  be  remarked  that  those  writs  were  in  many 
instances  directed  to  the  different  barons,  not  by  the  names  of  their 
estates,  but  by  their  surnames,  and  those  barons  who  did  not  attend 
were  fined  for  non-attendance  according  to  the  usual  custom,  thus 
showing  that  in  every  particular  the  custom  which  regulated  the  parlia- 
mentary assemblies  of  England  prevailed  in  Ireland,  each  holder  of  cer- 
tain lands  being  liable  to  be  summoned  to  the  council  of  the  king. 

"Rex.— A.   B.    Salutem.— Sciatis    super    quibusdam    arduis  negotiis 

ON    IRISH    BARONIKS    BY    WRIT.  131 

noset  statum  terre  nostri  contingentihus  vobiscum  hahere.  Volumus 
tractatum  specialem  vobis  mandamus  quod  scitis  in  propria  persona,  ves- 
tra  apud  Kilkeniam,  die  lune  in  octavis  purificationis  beato  Marie,  nd  trac- 
tandum  et  parliamentandum  cum  justicinrio  nostro.  Hibernie  et  aliis 
de  concilio  (nostro)  et  cum  ceteris  proceribus  et  magnetibus  terre  nostre 
super  eisdem  negotiis.  Et  Hoc  nullatentis  omittatis  in  fide  que  nobis 
tenemini.  Et  habeas  ibi  hoc  breve.  Teste  Johanne  Wogan,  Justic,  etc., 
apud  Dublin  viii.  die  Januarii,  Anno  Regni  nostri  tertio."* 

It  will  not  be  necessary  here  to  enter  into  the  question,  of  whether 
the  baronies  followed  the  course  of  tenure  ?  The  question  we  consider  is, 
whether  the  exclusion  of  female  heirs  was  wrongful,  or  whether  the  male 
heirs  were  justly  placed  in  place  and  precedence  of  the  original  summons 
to  parliament?  If  the  latter  be  correct,  it  must  wholly  rest  on  the  ground 
that  the  laws  of  Ireland  are  different  from  those  of  England,  and  that 
the  common  law  of  the  former  differs  from  that  of  the  latter,  and  thus 
a  different  derivation  is  given  to  the  descent  of  the  peerage  of  that 

It  will  be  well,  before  entering  further  into  the  question,  to  deduce  the 
descent  of  two  or  three  of  those  original  baronies,  showing  where  and  how 
the  heirs  female  have  been  excluded;  and  the  heirs  male  placed  and 
summoned  in  the  original  place  and  precedence  of  the  barony. 
The  most  remarkable  descents  are  to  be  found  in  the  baronies  of 

Slane  ;  held  by  the  Flemmings. 

Howth  j   by  the  St.  Lawrences. 

Gormanstoun  ;  by  the  Prestons. 

Killeen  ;  by  the  Plunkets. 

Kinsale  ;   by  the  Courcys. 

Ophaley  ;   by  the  Fitzgeralds. 

Athenry  j   by  the  Berminghams. 

Delvin  j   by  the  Nugents. 

Dunsany  ;  by  the  Plunkets. 

Le  Poer ;  by  the  Poers. 

The  last  barony  in  the  above  list  is  the  exception  before  allwled  to  as 
furnishing  the  only  instance  of  a  barony  of  Ireland  being  inherited  ac- 
cording to  the  laws  of  England,  and  given  to  a  female  heir. 

Nicholas  Le  Poer  was  summoned  to  parliament  as  a  baron  in  Novem- 
ber 1375,  by  the  name  and  title  of  Baron  Le  Poer  ;  this  barony  was  thus 
created  by  writ,  which  is  still  preserved  in  the  Record  office  of  Ireland. 
From  him  the  barony  descended  uninterruptedly  in  the  male  line  to 
Richard  Le  Poer,  who  was  in  1673,  created  Viscount  Decies  and  Earl  of 

James  Le  Poer  became  third  Earl  on  the  decease  of  his  brother  John 
second  Earl.  He  left  at  his  death  in  1704,  an  only  daughter  and  heiress 
Catherine  Le  Poer,  who  claimed  as  of  right  the  ancient  barony  created 
by  writ,  and  her  claim  having  been  submitted  to  the  Irish  House  of  Lords, 
was  admitted  by  their  lordships,  and  the  ancient  barony  is  now  enjoyed 
by  her  descendant,  the  present  Marquess  of  Waterford,  who  is  Baron 
Le  Poer,  with  the  original  place  and  precedence  of  the  original  barony 
created  23rd  November,  1375. 

Here  then  we  have  a  solemn  decision  of  the  House  of  Peers,  to  the 

*  Sir  John  Wogan  was  at  this  date  Lord  Justice  of  Ireland  Patt.  Roll.  Hib.  1093. 

132  ON    IRISH    BARONIES    BY    WRIT, 

effect  that  the  peerage  law  of  Ireland  is  the  same  as  that  of  England. 
Yet  notwithstanding  this  decision  the  question  is  still  apparently  unde- 
termined, no  other  decision  having  been  come  to  by  the  House  of  Lords. 
Although  several  cases  have  of  late  years  been  submitted  to  it  by  claimants 
through  heirs  female,  that  such  is  also  the  opinion  of  the  most  eminent 
barristers  of  Ireland,  will  be  seen  from  the  following  answers  to  queries 
submitted  to  them,  and  which  may  be  shortly  stated  in  substance  as 

"The  common  law  of  Ireland  as  contradistinguished  from  the  statute 
law,  was  and  is  exactly  the  same  as  the  common  law  of  England,  as 
well  touching  the  descent  of  peerages  as  all  other  subjects  ;  it  is  not 
possible  to  maintain  that  any  peerage  Irish  or  English  can,  except  by 
Act  of  Parliament,  be  regulated  by  a  course  of  descent  opposed  to  the 
course  prescribed  by  the  common  law  of  both  countries.  A  peerage 
created  by  letters  patent  will  follow  the  course  of  descent  presented  in 
that  patent.  A  peerage  by  writ  will  descend  to  the  heirs  lineal,  male  and 
female,  of  the  person  first  entitled.  A  barony  by  tenure  or  as  it  is  some- 
times called  by  prescription,  will  follow  the  descent  of  the  tenure  when  such 
exists  j  but  this  case  may  be  put  out  of  view  as  a  species  of  dignity  now 
quite  out  of  use,  save  in  afew  special  cases,  and  quite  inapplicable  to  thepre- 
sent  question.  No  custom  or  prescription  can  prove  the  control,  or  affect 
the  common  law  course  of  descent  of  a  peerage.  The  persons  summoned 
to  the  parliament  of  Kilkenny  in  the  year  1309,  by  writ  of  summons,  be- 
came in  consequence  of  such  writs  barons,  and  these  baronies  were  inhe- 
ritable by  heirs  male  and  female. 

If  the  above  opinion  is  correct,  all  those  baronies  which  were  created 
by  the  writs  of  summons  in  1309,  must,  if  not  extinct,  be  in  abeyance. 
None  of  the  baronies,  which  now  exist  in  the  male  heirs  of  the 
present  day  as  representatives  of  their  ancestors  who  were  summoned  to 
that  parliament,  have  descended  without  the  intervention  of  female  heirs 
and  coheirs.  In  deducing  the  descent  of  the  several  baronies  which 
still  exist  or  have  been  claimed,  we  will  commence  with  the  barony  of 
Slane,  which  perhaps  furnishes  as  numerous  instances  as  any  other  of  the 
intervention  of  coheirs,  and  the  peerage  passing  over  them,  reverting  to 
the  heirs  male.  This  claim  has  been  several  times  before  the  House  of 
Lords,  a  petition  having  been  presented  by  Mr.  Bryan,  who  claims  to  be, 
and  is,  without  doubt,  the  representative  of  one  of  the  coheirs  of  the  last 
baron  of  Slane  ;  a  claim  has  likewise  been  made  by  Mr.  James  Fleming 
as  heir  male.  The  House  of  Lords  decided  against  the  claim  of  Mr. 
Bryan  in  1835. 

Baldwin  le  Fleming,  lord  of  the  manor  of  Slane,  in  the  lordship  of 
Meath,  was  one  of  the  palatine  barons  of  that  lordship.  He  was  sum- 
moned to  the  parliament  of  Kilkenny  by  writ,  in  1309,  not  by  the  title 
of  Slane,  but  as  Lord  le  Fleming.  From  him  descended, 

Christopher  Fleming,  fifth  Lord  le  Fleming.  He  sat  in  parliament  29th 
Henry  VI,  but  died  without  issue,  when  his  sisters  became  his  coheirs, 
namely  : 

Anne  Fleming,  the  wife  of  Walter  Dillon,  Esq. 
Annia  Fleming,  the  wife  of  John  Bellew. 

Here  then  we  had  the  first  intervention  of  coheirs  in  the  Slane  peerage, 
and  the  first  interruption  to  the  lineal  male-descent  of  that  peerage  on  the 
death  of  Christopher,  the  fifth  lord.  David  Fleming,  son  of  the  fourth 

ON    IRISH    BARONIES    BY    WRIT.  133 

Lord  le  Fleming,  inherited  the  manor  of  Slane  (which  was  held  in  fee 
tail  of  the  heirs  of  Theobobald  de  Verdon,  as  of  the  manor  of  Duleek, 
having  come  to  that  family,  through  one  of  the  heirs  of  the  Lacy's,)  as 
heir  male  to  his  nephew  Christopher.  He  was  summoned  to  parliament 
as  Lord  le  Fleming  with  the  precedence  of  the  old  barony,  and  sat  in 
parliament  1462.  An  act  of  parliament  having  passed  to  settle  his  pre- 
cedence, he  died  in  1463,  and  on  his  death  his  son  Thomas  became  his 
heir,  but  he  dying  young,  his  three  sisters  became  his  coheirs — while 
the  manor  of  {Slane  passed  to  his  distant  heir  at  law. — Pipe  Roll. 

James  Fleming,  Knt.,  son  and  heir  of  William  Fleming,  of  New- 
castle, descended  from  the  third  Lord  le  Fleming,  and  his  wife,  Elizabeth 
Preston,  which  James,  succeeding  to  the  manor  of  Slane,  was  summoned 
to  parliament  12th  Edward  IV,  he  signed  a  representation  to  Richard 
III  from  the  Irish  parliament,  as  James  Fleming,  Baron  of  Slane. 

His  grandson,  James  Fleming,  third  Lord  Slane,  sat  in  parliament 
during  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII  and  Queen  Elizabeth,  but  on  his  death 
without  issue,  the  manor  of  Slane  went  to  the  heir  male,  and  his 
sisters  became  his  coheirs. 

Catherine  Fleming,  the  wife  of  Sir  Christopher  Barnwell,  of  Cricks 
town  ;  and  Elenor. 

Thomas  Fleming,  of  Stephens  town,  became  heir  male  on  the  death 
of  his  kinsman,  and  succeeded  to  the  estates  -,  he  was  summoned  to 
parliament  as  Barun  Slane,  1585,  and  sat  in  1587.  He  died,  leaving 
issue  two  daughters  his  coheirs  :  Catherine,  the  wife  of  Pierce  Butler  of 
Old  Abbey,  co.  Kilkenny  ;  and  Ellenor,  who  married  William  Flem- 
ing of  Depatrick,  who  became  heir  male,  and  inherited  the  ancient 
manor  of  Slane.  From  him  it  passed  to  his  son  Christopher,  who  was 
summoned  and  sat  in  parliament  1613-15.  The  deceased  Christopher 
became  last  Baron  of  Slane,  and  on  his  death  in  1728  his  sisters 
became  his  coheirs  :  Mary,  wife  of  Richard  Fleming,  of  Stahalmock ; 
and  Alice,  wife  of  Sir  George  Byrne,  Bart.  The  former  of  whom  is 
represented  by  the  Lord  Dunsany,  and  the  latter  by  George  Bryan, 
Esq.,  who  claimed  without  success  the  barony  in  1835. 




,  to. 

....  Rokeby's  turrets  high 
Were  northward  in  the  dawning  seen 
To  rear  them  o'er  the  thicket  green. 

THE  ancient  manor  of  Rokeby  is  classic  ground.  The  poetic  genius  of 
Scott  has  thrown  a  halo  of  imperishable  celebrity  around  its  romantic 
beauties,  and  imparted  a  national  interest  to  its  history.  With  extreme 
accuracy  of  observation  and  felicity  of  expression  the  bard  describes  the 
passage  through  the  glen  :  — 

"A  stern  and  lone,  yet  lovely  road, 
As  e'er  the  foot  of  minstrel  trode.'* 

And  few  can  contemplate  "  Egliston's  grey  ruins,"  or  "  Rokeby's   turrets 

high,"  without   feeling  that  the  charm  of  poetry  hangs  over  them.     At  the 

period  of  the  Conquest,  all  the  territory  abutting  on  the  Tees,  at  its  southern 

border,  was  granted  to  Alan,  Earl  of  Rretagne,  and  formed  his  English 

Earldom  of  Richmond.      These   broad  lands  were  partitioned  among  the 

junior  members  of  his  family  and  his  followers;  and  in  the   distribution 

Rokeby  became  part  of  the  possessions  of  the  Fitzalans,  a  northern  baronial 

house,  whose  chief  seat  was  at  Bedale.     But  their  interest  at  Rokeby  was 

scarcely  more  than  nominal,  for    beneath   them  was  a  subinfeudation  in 

favour  of  a  family,  which,  residing  on  the  lands  of  Rokeby,  was  usually  de- 

scribed as  "  de  Rokeby,"  and  eventually  assumed  that  name  as  a  personal 

appellation,    tradition  asserting  that  its   ancestors   had  been  there  seated 

in    Saxon   times.     The  first  honourable   occurrence  of    the    Rokebys   in 

public  affairs,  is  in  the  reign  of  Edward  III.,  when  Thomas  de  Rokeby  ren- 

dered the  name  one  of  historic  distinction.  "  In  the  first  year  of  Edward  III.," 

says  Froissart,  "  the  Scots,  under  the  command  of  the  Earl  of  Moray,  and 

Sir  James  Douglas,  ravaged  the  country  as  far  as  Newcastle  ;   Edward  was 

in  those  parts  with  a  more  powerful  army,  and  an  engagement  was  expected 

and  wished  for,  when  the  Scotch  army  suddenly  disappeared,  and  no  infor- 

mation could  be  gained  respecting  the  route  they  had  taken.     The  young 

king  caused  it  to  be  proclaimed  throughout  the  host,  that  whoever  should 

bring  certain  intelligence  where  the  Scotch  army  was  should    have  one 

hundred  pounds  a  year  in  land,  and  be  made  a  knight  by  the  king  himself  : 

immediately  fifteen  or  sixteen  knights  and  esquires  passed  the  river  with 

much  danger,  ascended  the  mountains,  and  then  separated,  each  taking  a 

different  route.     On  the  the  fourth  day,  Rokeby,  who  was  one  of  them,  gave 

the  king  exact  information  where  the  Scots  lay."     "  This,"  says  Hunter, 

the  learned  historian  of  South  Yorkshire,  "  is  not  a  legendary  story,  in- 

vented by  some  family  annalist,   or    doating  chronicler  of  public  affairs,  the 

veracity  of  the  narrative  being  here  supported  by  the  most  authentic  records 

of  the  realm  ;  and  it  is  a  gratifying  fact  that  we  are  so  often  enabled  to 

prove  circumstances  in  our  old  chronicles,  which,  on  a  first  view,  have  an 

ROKEBY.  136 

air  of  romance  and  fable,  by  fiscal  documents,  wherein,  least  of  all,  any- 
thing imaginary  is  to  be  found."  In  the  Patent  Rolls,  1  Edward  III.,  m. 
7,  is  a  grant  to  Thomas  de  Rokeby,  of  £100,  to  be  taken  annually  from  the 
Exchequer  till  £100  lands  shall  be  provided  for  him,  in  which  the  service 
is  described  nearly  as  it  is  related  by  Froissart ;  and  in  the  same  rolls,  5 
Edward  III.,  m.  7,  is  a  grant  to  him  in  fee  of  the  manor  of  Pawlinesgray, 
in  Kent,  with  lands  in  the  north  which  had  lately  belonged  to  Michael 
and  Andrew  de  Harcle,  in  release  of  his  £100  annuity  from  the  Ex- 
chequer. Sir  Thomas  Rokeby  subsequently  held  commands  against  the 
Scots,  was  twice  High  Sheriff  of  Yorkshire,  and  became  (12  and  13  Ed- 
ward III.)  Governor  of  the  Castles  of  Berwick,  Edinburgh,  and  Stirling. 
In  1346,  he  pre-eminently  distinguished  himself  at  the  battle  of  Neville's 
Cross,  and  was  one  of  the  few  magnates  present  at  that  engagement  to  whom 
the  letter  of  thanks  was  addressed,  of  which  a  copy  is  to  be  found  in  the 
Fcedera.  In  1 349,  he  went  to  Ireland  as  Lord  Justice,  and  held  that  ap~ 
pointment  until  1355,  when  Maurice  Fitz  Thomas,  Earl  of  Desmond,  suc- 
ceeded him.  The  administration  of  Sir  Thomas  Rokeby  in  Ireland,  is 
famous  for  the  attempt  he  made  to  abolish  the  custom  of  coigne  and  livery,  a 
species  of  arbitrary  purveyance  for  the  persons  in  authority  there ;  and  a 
tradition  has  been  handed  down,  attested  by  Holinshed,  that  being  once 
censured  for  using  wooden  dishes  and  cups,  as  not  befitting  his  degree, 
Sir  Thomas  replied,  that  he  would  rather  drink  out  of  such  cups,  and  pay 
gold  and  silver,  than  drink  out  of  gold  and  silver  and  make  wooden  pay- 
ments. In  the  latter  transaction  of  his  life,  Sir  Thomas  appears  with  the 
addition  "  The  Uncle"  to  his  name,  and  another  Sir  Thomas  Rokeby  occurs, 
styled  "  the  Nephew.'*  He  seems  to  have  participated  in  the  triumph  of 
Neville's  Cross,  and  to  have  accompanied  the  elder  Rokeby  to  Ireland.  A 
third  Sir  Thomas  Rokeby  was  High  Sheriff  of  Yorkshire,  8  Henry  IV.,  and 
during  his  year  of  office,  the  Earl  of  Northumberland  made  his  last  attempt 
to  dethrone  King  Henry;  Sir  Thomas  collecting  the  posse  comitatus,  met 
the  Earl  at  Bramham  Moore,  and  a  conflict  ensued,  in  which  Northumber- 
land and  the  Lord  Bardolph  were  slain.  The  next  Rokeby s  distinguished 
in  state  affairs  were  WILLIAM  ROKEBY,  Lord  Chancellor  of  Ireland,  arid 
Archbishop  of  Dublin,  who  died  in  1521,  and  Sir  Richard  Rokeby,  his 
younger  brother,  Comptroller  to  Cardinal  Wolsey.  The  archbishop  was 
interred  in  a  sepulchral  chapel  built  by  himself  at  Sandal  Parva,  in  York- 
shire, and  this  tomb  still  remains.  While  this  eminent  churchman  was  run- 
ning the  race  of  high  preferment,  the  eldest  branch  of  the  family  remained 
quietly  on  the  hereditary  patrimony  of  Rokeby  and  Mortham.  In  the  reign 
of  Henry  VII.  the  head  of  the  house  was  another  Sir  THOMAS  ROKEBY, 
who  had  three  sons  ;  the  two  younger  were  the  ancestors  of  families  of  the 
name,  resident  at  Marske  and  Staningford. 

Ralph  Rokeby,  Esq.,  the  eldest  son,  who  succeeded  to  Rokeby  and  Mor- 
thanr,  was  living  in  the  reigns  of  Henry  VII.  and  Henry  VIII.  The  era 
of  the  "jargon"  of  "the  Felon  Sow,"  which  may  be  seen  in  the  notes  to 
the  poem  of  Rokeby,  refers  to  the  time  of  this  Ralph.  Sir  Walter  Scott 
deems  "  the  Hunting  of  the  Felon  Sow  of  Rokeby  by  the  Friars  of  Richmond," 
one  of  the  very  best  of  the  mock  romances  of  the  ancient  minstrels,  and 
much  commends  its  comic  humour.  "  Ralph  Rokeby,  who  (for  the  jest's 
sake  apparently)  bestowed  the  untractable  animal  on  the  convent  of  Rich- 
mond, seems,"  says  the  poet,  "to  have  flourished  in  the  time  of  Henry  VII., 
which,  since  we  know  not  the  date  of  Friar  Theobald's  wardenship,  to 
which  the  ballad  refers  us,  may  indicate  that  of  the  composition  itself. 

136  THE    LANDS    OF    ENGLAND. 

Mortham  is  mentioned  as  being  the  facetious  Baron's  place  of  residence ; 
and  the  Mistress  Rokeby  of  the  romance,  who  so  charitably  refreshed  the 
sow,  after  she  had  discomfited    Friar  Middleton  and  his  auxiliaries,  was 
daughter  and  coheir  of  Danby  of  Yafforth."     By  this -lady,  Ralph  Rokeby 
had  four  sons,  THOMAS,  his  heir  j  John,  D.C.L.  a  learned  civilian;  Richard, 
a  soldier,  under  Lord  Scrope  of  Boltori,  whose  standard  he  is  said  to  have 
borne  at  FJodden ;  and  Ralph  of  Skiers,  an  eminent  lawyer,  raised  to  the 
coif  6  Edward  VI.     The  eldest  son,  THOMAS  ROKEBY,  Esq.  of  Mortham, 
described  "  as  a  plain  man  as  might  be,  whose  words  came  always  from  his 
heart,  without  faining,  a  trusty  friend,  a  forward  gentleman  in  the  field,  and 
a  great  housekeeper,"  was  father,  by  his  wife,  a  daughter  of  Robert  Consta- 
ble of  Cliff,  in  Yorkshire,  of  four  sons  :   CHRISTOPHER,  his   heir;    Ralph, 
one  of  the  Masters  of  Requests  to  Queen  Elizabeth ;  Thomas,  ancestor  of 
the  Rokebys  of  Skiers,  extinct   baronets,  and  of  the  Rokebys  of  Arthing- 
worth,    co.  Northampton,    now  represented  by  the  Rev.    HENRY  RALPH 
ROKEBY;     and    Anthony.       Of    these    sons,    the     eldest,    CHRISTOPHER 
ROKEBY,  Esq.,    married   Margaret,   daughter  of  Sir  Roger  Lascelles   of 
Brackenburgh,  and  had  a  son  and  successor,  JOHN  ROKEBY,  Esq.  of  Mortham, 
who  appears,  by  the  visitation  of  Yorkshire,  1584,  to  have  been  then  in  pri- 
son in  the  Fleet,  "  religionis  causa."     He  wedded  a  daughter  of  the  ancient 
family  of  Thweng,  and  was  succeeded  by  his  son,  who  bore  the  favourite 
family  name  of  THOMAS,  and  was  knighted.     Of  his  descendants  little  more 
than  their  names  are  recorded.     It  would,  otherwise,  have  been  gratifying 
to  have  known  something  of  the  personal  habits  and  actions  of  those  in 
whose  time  the  chief  line  of  the  ancient  family  of  Rokeby  fell  to  decay,  and 
especially  of  Sir  Thomas  Rokeby  himself,  whose  necessities  must  have  been 
great  (it  may  be  presumed)  when  he  disposed  of  the  domain  at  ROKEBY,  in 
1610.     The  purchaser  was  WILLIAM  ROBINSON.  Esq.,  an  opulent  merchant 
of  the  city  of  London,  who  paid  a  composition  fine  for  declining  the  honour 
of  knighthood,  at  the  coronation  of  Charles  I.     His  son  and  heir  apparent, 
Thomas  Robinson,  Esq.  of  Gray's  Inn,  Barrister- at- Law,  exchanged  the 
long  robe  for  the  broad  sword,  at  the  breaking  out  of  the  civil  war,  and  was 
slain  near   Leeds,  when  a  colonel  in  the   service  of  the  parliament.     By 
Frances,  his  wife,  daughter  of  Leonard  Smelt,  Esq.,  he  left  two  sons  : 
WILLIAM,  his  heir ;  and  Leonard,  (Sir)  Chamberlain  of  the  city  of  London, 
ancestor  of  the  Robinsons,  of  Edgely,  co.  York.  The  elder,  WILLIAM  ROBIN- 
SON, Esq.,  succeeded  to  the  lovely  demesne  of  Rokeby,  at  the  decease  of  hi? 
grandfather,  and  resided  there  in  high  repute,  so  esteemed  for  his  long  ser- 
vices on  the  magisterial  bench  as  to  be  styled,  par  excellence,  "  the  justice." 
He  lived  to  a  great  age,  anddied  universally  lamented.  A  monumental  stone, 
with  an  elegant  inscription  in  Rokeby  church,  marks  the  spot  where  he  lies 
interred.  His  grandson  Sir  THOMAS  ROBINSON,  Bart,  who  possessed  conside- 
rable architectural  ta&te,  rebuilt  the  mansion  of  Rokeby,  erected  a  mausoleum, 
and  enclosed  the  park,  which  he  adorned  with  extensive  plantations.     In 
commemoration  of  these  improvements,  two  marble  tables,  fixed  in  the  two 
stone  piers,  were  placed  at  each  side  of  the  entrance  into  the  park  from 
Greta  Bridge. 

That  on  the  right  with  the  following  inscription : — 


Quos  intus  cernes, 
Omnigenarum  fere  arborum  sylvestrium 


Miliarii  spacio  usque  ad  clomura  de  Rookby, 
Flexibus  quasi  serpentinis  extensos, 

ROKEBY.  137 

Jam  florentes  ; 
Et  (faxit  Deus)  seris  nepotibus  umbram  fractures 

Anno  Dom.  1730,  consevit 
Thomas  Robinson,  Baronettus 

Et  haec, 

Ne  forte  poster!  nescerent, 

Marmori  incidenda  commisit 

Anno  1737. 

That  on  the  left,  with  the  following  lines  : — 

Murum  hunc 

Qui  inclusum  vivarium  circundat, 

A  latere  fluminis  Gretae  occidental!  porrectum 

Anno  Dom.  1723  inchoavit 

Annoque  1730,  absolvit 

Thomas  Robinson 

Suae  gentis 

(A  Scoti  olim  montanis  oriundse 

Inde  ad  Kendall,  in  Westmoria,  migrantis 

E  t  hie  demum  considentis) 

Baronettus  primus 

Sextusquo  hujusce  domus  de  Rookby 


Sir  Thomas  married  twice,  but  died  s.p.  in  1777,  when  the  baronetcy 
and  estates  devolved  on  his  brother  William,  at  whose  decease  unm.  in  1785, 
they  passed  to  his  brother  the  Most  Rev.  Richard  Robinson,  Archbishop  of 
Armagh  and  Lord  Almoner,  a  prelate  of  great  influence  and  personal  consi- 
deration, who,  on  being  elevated  to  the  peerage  in  1777,  had  assumed  his 
title  from  the  lands  of  which  we  are  now  treating.  His  Grace  died  unm.  1794, 
when  the  Barony  of  Rokeby  devolved,  by  a  special  limitation  in  the  patent, 
on  his  kinsman  Matthew  Robinson,  Esq.  of  Edgeley,  whose  grand  nephew 
Henry  is  the  present  Lord  Rokeby.  The  estate,  which  gave  name  to  the 
title,  was  eventually  purchased  from  the  Robinsons  by  the  father  of  the  late 
JOHN  B.  S.  MORRITT,  Esq.  the  friend  and  correspondent  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott ;  and  is  now  held  by  Mr.  Morritt's  son  and  successor. 

Rokeby  and  Mortham,  which  formed  the  patrimony  of  the  Rokeby's, 
were  situated,  the  former,  on  the  left  bank  of  Greta,  the  latter  on  the  right, 
about  half-a-mile  nearer  to  the  junction  with  the  Tees.  The  river  runs  with 
very  great  rapidity  over  a  bed  of  solid  rock,  broken  'by  many  shelving  des- 
cents, down  which  the  stream  dashes  with  great  noise  and  impetuosity,  vin- 
dicating its  etymology,  which  has  been  derived  from  the  Gothic  "  Gridan," 
"to  clamour."  The  banks  partake  of  the  same  wild  and  romantic  character, 
being  chiefly  lofty  cliffs  of  limestone  rock,  whose  grey  colour  contrasts  ad- 
mirably with  the  various  trees  and  shrubs  which  find  root  among  their  cre- 
vices, as  well  as  with  the  hue  of  the  ivy,  which  clings  round  them  in  profu- 
sion, and  hangs  down  from  their  projections  in  long  sweeping  tendrils.  At 
other  points  the  rocks  give  place  to  precipitous  banks  of  earth,  bearing  large 
trees  intermixed  with  cope  wood.  In  one  spot  the  dell,  which  is  everywhere 
very  narrow,  widens  for  a  space  to  leave  room  for  a  dark  grove  of  yew  trees, 
intermixed  here  and  there  with  aged  pines  of  uncommon  size.  Directly  op- 
posite to  this  sombre  thicket,  the  cliff's  on  the  other  side  of  the  Greta  are 
tall,  white  and  fringed  with  all  kinds  of  deciduous  shrubs.  The  whole 
scenery  of  this  spot  is  so  much  adapted  to  the  ideas  of  superstition,  that  it 
has  acquired  the  name  of  Blockula,  from  the  place  where  the  Swedish 
witches  were  supposed  to  hold  their  sabbath.  The  dell,  however,  has  super- 
stitions of  its  own  growth,  for  it  is  supposed  to  be  haunted  by  a  female 

133  THK    LANDS    OF    ENGLAND. 

spectre,  called  the  Dobie  of  Mortham.  The  cause  assigned  for  her  appear- 
ance is  a  lady's  having  been  whilom  murdered  in  the  wood,  in  evidence 
of  which  her  blood  is  shewn  upon  the  stairs  of  the  old  tower  at  Mortham  ; 
but  whether  she  was  slain  by  a  jealous  husband,  or  by  savage  banditti,  or 
by  an  uncle  who  coveted  her  estate,  or  by  a  rejected  lover,  are  points  upon 
which  the  traditions  of  Rokeby  do  not  enable  us  to  decide. 

The  castle  of  Mortham  which  Leland  terms  "  Mr.  Rokeby's  Place,  in 
ripa  citer,  scant  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  Greta  Bridge,  and  not  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  beneath  the  trees,"  is  a  picturesque  tower,  surrounded  by  buildings  of 
different  ages,  now  converted  into  a  farm  house  and  offices.  The  battle- 
ments of  the  tower  itself  are  singularly  elegant,  the  architect  having  broken 
them  at  regular  intervals  into  different  heights  :  while  those  at  the  corners 
of  the  tower  project  into  octangular  turrets.  They  are  also  from  space  to 
space,  covered  with  stones  laid  across  them,  as  in  modern  embrasures,  the 
whole  forming  an  uncommon  and  beautiful  effect.  The  surrounding  build- 
ings are  of  less  happy  form,  being  pointed  into  high  and  steep  roofs.  A  wall 
with  embrasures,  encloses  the  southern  front,  where  a  low  portal  arch  affords 
an  entry  to  what  was  the  Castle  court.  At  some  distance  is  most  happily 
placed,  between  the  stems  of  two  magnificent  elms, — 

a  massive  monument, 

Carved  o'er  in  ancient  Gothic  wise, 
With  many  a  scutcheon  and  device. 

It  is  said  to  have  been  brought  from  the  ruins  of  Eglistone  Priory,  and 
from  the  armoury  with  which  it  is  richly  carved,  appears  to  have  been  a  tomb 
of  the  Fitz-  Hughs. 

The  situation  of  Mortham,  is  eminently  beautiful,  occupying  a  high  bank, 
at  the  bottom  of  which  the  Greta  winds  out  of  the  dark,  narrow  and  roman- 
tic dell,  and  flows  onward  through  a  more  open  valley  to  meet  the  Tees, 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  castle.  Mortham  is  surrounded  by  old 
trees,  happily  and  widely  grouped  with  Mr.  Morritt's  plantations. 

Sir  Walter  Scott  makes  the  following  pleasing  allusion  to  the  romantic 
scenery  of  Mortham. 

*  *  *  *  #  # 

"  And  when  he  issued  from  the  wood, 
Before  the  gate  of  Mortham  stood. 
'Twas  a  fair  scene  !  the  sunbeam  lay 
On  battled  tower  and  portal  gray  : 
And  from  the  grassy  slope  he  sees 
The  Greta  flow  to  meet  the  Tees  ; 
Where,  issuing  from  her  darksome  bed, 
She  caught  the  morning's  eastern  red, 
And  through  the  softening  vale  below 
Roll'd  her  bright  waves,  in  rosy  glow, 
All  blushing  to  her  bridal  bed, 
Like  some  shy  maid  in  convent  bred  ; 
While  linnet,  lark  and  blackbird  gay 
Sing  forth  her  nuptial  roundelay."  * 

OTrtttle,  co.  <£S3t]r. 

AMONG  the  remaining  examples  of  the  customs  of  our  forefathers  there  are 
perhaps  none  which  are  more  interesting,  or  under  the  so  called  legal  refor- 
mations, more  rapidly  disappearing  than  the  feudal  tenures,  curious  customs 
and  arbitrary  jurisdiction  by  which  lands  were  held,  either  of  the  crown,  or 

WHITTLE.  1 39 

of  the  great  and  powerful  barons,  each  of  whom  ruled  with  a  tyrant's 
power  over  the  inhabitants  of  his  lordship,  exacting  on  a  reduced  scale  all 
the  homage  of  life  and  limb,  which  he  in  turn  was  bound  to  render  to  his 
sovereign.  There  are  still  lands  in  England  retaining  many  of  these  feudal 
laws  and  customs,  and  of  these  the  Manor  of  Writtle  in  Essex,  which  gives 
the  title  to  the  noble  family  of  Petre,  is  a  remarkable  specimen. 

Writtle,  the  largest  and  one  of  the  finest  parishes  in  Essex,  is  considered 
to  be  the  site  of  the  Roman  station  of  Jasoromagus,  named  in  the  Itinerary 
of  Antoninous.  In  the  reign  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  it  formed  part  of 
tiie  possessions  of  Earl  Harold,  who  succeeded  the  Confessor  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  kingdom,  and  after  the  battle  of  Hastings,  Writtle  fell  into  the 
grasp  of  the  Conqueror,  who  at  the  general  survey,  held  it  in  demesne  as 
the  king's  fee — we  may  suppose  it  to  have  been  a  favourite  hunting  resort 
of  the  succeeding  monarchs,  for  in  1211,  King  John  erected  a  palace  there 
opposite  to  what  is  now  called  the  Lordship  Farm,  but  the  moat  is  the  only 
vestige  of  its  magnificence.  At  a  later  period  of  his  reign,  John  granted 
the  manor  and  park  of  Writtle,  in  fee  farm  with  free  warren  to  one  of  the 
family  of  Nova  Villa,  or  Neville.  After  various  subsequent  changes  it  re- 
turned into  the  hands  of  the  Nevilles,  and  in  the  14th  year  of  King  Henry 
III.  it  was  held  by  Ralph  Neville,  Bishop  of  Chichester,  the  same  who 
built  a  palace  in  Holborn  as  a  towrn  residence  for  the  bishops  of  his  see, 
when  they  visited  London.  This  palace  becoming  the  property  of  Henry 
Lacey,  Earl  of  Lincoln,  has  ever  since  been  called  Lincoln  Inn.  Henry 
subsequently  granted  the  Manor  of  Writtle  for  exchange  of  lands  in  the 
county  of  Chester,  to  Isabella  de  Brugs  or  Braes,  sister  of  the  Earl  of  Ches- 
ter, who  was  pcisoned  by  his  wife,  a  Welsh  heiress,  and  her  son  Robert  did 
homage  for  it,  serving  in  Wales  for  one  knight's  fee.  The  grandson  of  this 
Robert,  being  Earl  of  Carrick,  so  well  known  as  the  "Bruce  of  Bannock- 
burn,"  having  been  crowned  King  of  Scotland,  at  Scone,  25  March,  1305, 
was  forthwith  deprived  of  all  his  English  possessions  by  Edward  I. 
By  an  inquisition  taken  in  the  5th  year  of  Edward  III.,  it  was  found  that 
Richard  de  Walleyes  and  Eleanora,  his  wife,  did  hold  the  third  part  of  the 
manor  of  Writtle,  at  the  time  of  the  death  of  the  said  Alianora,  as  of  her 
dower,  arid  it  was  further  found  that  King  Edward,  father  of  Edward  III., 
did  grant  to  Humphrey  de  Bohun,  sometime  Earl  of  Hereford  and 
Essex,  and  to  Elizabeth,  his  wife,  the  manors  of  Writtle  and  Horsefrith, 
adjoining,  and  that  of  John  de  Bohun,  then  Earl  of  Hereford  and  Essex, 
son  and  heir  of  the  aforesaid  held  the  manors  of  Writtle  and  Horsfrith,  for 
ever  of  the  king  in  capite  by  the  service  of  one  knight's  fee.  John  dying 
without  issue  was  succeeded  by  his  brother,  Humphrey,  who  obtained  the 
royal  permission  to  embattle  and  fortify  his  house  at  Writtle,  additions  par- 
ticularly necessary  to  the  comfort  and  security  of  a  feudal  baron  in  those 
times.  Anne,  the  grand-daughter  and  heiress  of  Humphrey  de  Bohun,  was 
contracted  whilst  in  tender  years  to  Thomas,  Earl  of  Stafford,  who  dying  in 
1 392,  she  by  virtue  of  the  king's  special  licence  took  hisnext  surviving  brother 
and  heir,  Edmund,  Earl  of  Stafford,  for  a  husband  ;  he  was  slain  at  the  battle 
of  Shrewsbury,  in  1403,  and  their  son  Humphrey,  who  in  addition  to  all 
his  other  titles  had  been  created  Duke  of  Buckingham,  was,  at  the  time  of 
his  death  (being  slain  at  the  battle  of  Northampton,  1460,)  found  possessed 
of  the  manor  of  Writtle  and  Boyton.  Writtle  continued  to  be  among  the 
possessions  of  this  family,  until  the  death  of  Edward  Stafford,  the  third  and 
last  duke,  who  for  some  frivolous  cause  of  offence  given  at  a  court  banquet, 
having  fallen  under  the  displeasure  of  the  then  all-powerful  favourite  Cardinal 

140  THE    LANDS    OF    ENGLAND. 

Wolsey,  was  through  his  malice  and  revenge,  beheaded  on  Tower  hill,  1 7  May, 
1521 , whereupon  all  his  estates  being  forfeited,  the  manor  of  Writtle  once  more 
became  the  property  of  the  crown.  The  manor  of  Writtle  was  once  more  des- 
tined to  change  hands,  Sir  William  Petre,  one  of  the  most  successful  statesman 
and  singular  characters  of  *the  remarkable  times  in  which  he  lived,  came 
into  notice  of  Henry  VIII.  soon  after  the  disgrace  and  death  of  Cardinal 
Wolsey.  Sir  William  Petre  having  been  secretary  during  three  reigns, 
(notwithstanding  the  different  political  and  religious  opinions  which  pre- 
vailed during  those  reigns,)  in  the  first  year  of  the  reign  of  Mary,  he  obtained 
possession  of  the  manor  and  park  of  Writtle.  By  this  deed  of  grant,  re- 
markable from  the  fact  that  in  it  Queen  Mary  among  her  titles  takes  that 
of  Supreme  Head  of  the  Church  of  England  and  Ireland,  she  gives  to  Sir 
William  Petre,  Knt.  and  his  descendants  in  exchange  for  certain  lands  in 
Somersetshire,  and  in  consideration  of  his  good,  true,  faithful  and  acceptable 
services,  to  her  therefore  manifoldly  rendered,  and  of  her  special  grace  in 
consequence,  all  that  the  lordship  and  manor  of  Writtle,  and  those  two  parks 
of  Writtle  and  Horsfrith,  in  the  county  of  Essex,  with  all,  and  singular  their 
rights,  members  and  appurtenances,  and  all  the  right  she  herself  possessed, 
over  all  lands,  fisheries,  &c.  within  the  said  manors,  the  goods  and  chattels 
of  all  felons  and  fugitives,  the  rights  of  wardship  and  marriage,  each  of  which 
appears  to  have  been  productive  of  much  emolument,  even  after  the  coarse 
customs  of  the  early  feudal  barons  had  been  laid  aside,  also  all  the  perqui- 
sites and  profit?,  in  which  are  included  the  male  and  female  deer  in  the 
parks,  and  the  male  and  female  villeins  or  peasants  with  all  their  belongings, 
in  short  absolute  power  over  the  inhabitants  of  the  district,  whether  man  or 
beast.  Together  with  all  the  feudal  rights,  customs,  and  appurtenances, 
some  of  which  customs  are  of  a  very  singular  description,  and  scarcely  to 
be  understood  at  the  present  day,  but  which  render  the  lord  of  the  manor 
even  now  a  very  formidable  person  in  his  own  territory.  He  appoints  his 
own  coroner  for  the  peculiar  and  exempt  jurisdiction  of  Writtle,  and  by  his 
steward,  holds  baronial  courts  within  the  manor,  where  all  the  singular 
customs  peculiar  to  ancient  demesne,  as  Writtle  is  still  styled,  are  rigorously 
enforced;  he  there  imposes  fines, and  on  the  death  of  a  tenant  or  the  alienation 
of  a  tenant's  property,  he  takes  possession  as  a  heriot  of  the  best  living 
beast.  At  these  courts  wills  can  be  proved  without  the  interference  of  the 
see  of  Canterbury,  an  instance  of  which  occurred  so  lately  as  1810.  It 
would  perhaps  be  advantageous  if  the  lord  could  still,  as  formerly  exercise 
some  controul  over  the  morals  of  the  vassals,  for  at  a  court  held  in  the 
7th  Henry  VI.  a  man  was  severely  fined  for  slandering  his  neighbour,  and 
the  curate  of  the  parish  being  convicted  of  immoral  conduct,  was  not  only 
amerced  himself  in  the  then  considerable  sum  of  33s.  4d.,  but  the  vicar  also 
had  to  pay  a  fine,  for  concealing  the  fault.  It  is  the  custom  of  the  manor, 
that  on  the  death  of  a  tenant,  if  his  property  be  not  claimed  at  the  next 
court,  it  may  be  seized  into  the  lord's  hands ;  if  a  tenant  leaving  no  son,  die 
intestate,  his  property  devolves  solely  on  his  eldest  daughter,  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  the  rest.  To  pass  over  a  certain  portion  of  the  manor  called 
green-way,  all  carts,  save  those  of  the  lords  must  pay  a  fine  of  four  pence,  this 
is  called  lefe  silver  or  lefe  and  lace.  Another  custom  goes  by  the  name  of 
stubble  silver,  it  being  a  certain  fine  or  airsage  for  every  pig  ranging  in  the 
woods,  from  Michaelmas  day  to  Martinmas,  and  such  as  were  not  duly 
paid  for,  were  at  once  forfeited  to  the  lord.  Various  officers  were  appointed 
to  carry  out  the  laws  &c.  of  the  manor,  and  continue  to  be  so  every  year. 
The  bedell  we  may  suppose  formerly  to  have  been  a  person  of  vast  dignity 

EUSTON.  141 

and  importance,  his  very  garments  partaking  of  his  power,  "  for  at  one  court 
an  unfortunate  villain  is  fined  20  pence  for  pulling  ye  coat  of  ye  bedell 
set  upon  a  door  for  the  safe  keeping  of  goods  within."  He  was  chosen  by 
the  tenants.  The  prefsectus  or  overseer,  was  also  chosen  by  the  tenants  ; 
and  there  are  many  instances  of  recourse  being  had  to  severe  measures  to 
oblige  the  person  so  chosen  to  do  his  duty  gratis.  The  fugalores  or  wood- 
wards, had  charge  of  the  woods  and  parks.  An  officer  styled  the  lord's 
paler  collected  the  pale  wheat  due  as  rent  from  various  tenants.  The  caterer, 
(often  alluded  to  by  Chaucer)  took  charge  of  the  lord's  provisions,  while  the 
wagebread  visiting  the  bakers,  was  charged  to  report  all  those  who  sold 
bread  deficient  in  weight ;  and  that  all  things  might  be  equally  good,  a  dig- 
nitary, bearing  the  title  of  the  lord's  taster  of  ale,  seized  all  such  as  forfeit 
which  was  not  in  his  opinion  sound  and  sufficient  in  strength.  These  are 
some  of  the  remarkable  remaining  customs  of  the  feudal  tenure  of  Writtle, 
which  has  remained  in  the  possession  of  Sir  William  Petre's  descendants,  to 
the  present  day.  His  son  John,  was  created  a  Peer  by  James  I.  with 
the  title  of  Baron  Petre,  of  Writtle. 

to.  J^uffotfc. 

"  Here  noble  Grafton  spreads  his  rich  domains, 
Round  Euston's  water' d  vale,  and  sloping  plains, 
Here  woods  and  groves  in  solemn  grandeur  rise, 
Here  the  kite  brooding  unmolested  flies  ; 
The  woodcock  and  the  painted  pheasant  race, 
And  sculking  foxes,  destined  for  the  chase." 

ROBERT  Bloomfield,  the  rustic  bard  of  Suffolk,  was  born  in  the  vicinity  of 
"  Grafton's  rich  domain;"  and  his  muse  loved  to  commemorate  the  beauties 
of  those  favoured  scenes,  wherein  his  mind  first  became  stored  with  that 
abundance  of  rural  imagery,  which,  feeding  his  natural  passion  for  the 
country,  was  one  day  to  give  an  irresistible  charm  to  the  simple  language 
of  the  untaught  peasant.  Magical  is  the  power  of  genius  !  The  humble 
"  Shepherd's  boy,  he  sought  no  better  name,"  has  imparted  a  poetic  as- 
sociation to  the  princely  home  of  Euston,  more  attractive  than  any  other 
connected  with  its  history. 

The  village  of  Euston  is  situated  a  mile  from  Fakenham,  but  the  park 
extends  nearly  to  that  place.  It  was  formerly  the  lordship  of  a  family 
bearing  the  local  name,  and  afterwards  descended  to  SIR  HENRY  BENNKT, 
who  by  King  Charles  II.  was  made  Secretary  of  State,  and  created 
Viscount  Thetford,  and  Earl  of  Arlington.  He  enjoyed  the  estate  for 
many  years,  and  built  the  mansion  of  Euston  Hall.  In  reference  to  this, 
we  find  the  following  remarks  of  John  Evelyn  : 

"  A  stranger  preached  at  Euston  church,  and  fell  into  a  hansome  pane- 
gyric on  my  lord's  new  building  the  church,  which  indeed  for  its  elegance 
and  cheerfulness  is  one  of  the  prettiest  country  churches  in  England.  My 
lord  told  me  his  heart  smote  him  that  after  he  had  bestowed  so  much  on 
his  magnificent  palace  there,  he  should  see  God's  house  in  the  ruine  it  lay 
in.  He  has  also  rebuilt  the  parsonage-house  all  of  stone,  very  neat  and 

By  Isabella  of  Nassau,  his  wife,  daughter  of  Lewis,  Count  of  Nassau,  the 
earl  left  an  only  daughter  and  heiress,  ISABELLA,  the  wife  of  Henry  Fitzroy, 
second  illegitimate  son  of  King  Charles  II.,  by  the  Duchess  of  Cleveland. 

142  THE    LANDS    OF    ENGLAND. 

Immediately  after  his  marriage  in  1672,  Henry  Fitzroy  was  created  by  his 
father  Earl  of  Euston,  and  in  three  years  after  made  Duke  of  Grafton. 
His  Grace  died  from  the  effects  of  a  wound  received  at  the  siege  of  Cork, 
9  Oct.  1690,  and  was  buried  at  Euston.  His  son  and  successor,  CHARLES, 
2nd  DUKE  OF  GRAFTON,  K.G.,  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  inherited,  in  right 
of  his  mother,  the  Earldom  of  Arlington  :  he  married  Henrietta,  daughter 
of  Charles,  Marquess  of  Worcester,  and  dying  in  1757,  was  succeeded  by 
his  grandson,  AUGUSTUS  HENRY,  3rd  DUKE  OF  GRAFTON,  K.G.  who  filled 
at  one  time  the  office  of  first  Lord  of  the  Treasury.  His  Grace  died  14 
March  1811,  and  was  succeeded  by  his  son,  GEORGE  HENRY,  4th  DUKE  OF 
GRAFTON.  K.G.  Lord  Lieutenant,  Vice  Admiral,  and  Gustos  Rotulorum  of 
Suffolk.  This  nobleman  died  in  Sept.  1844,  when  his  honours  and  estates 
devolved  on  his  son,  HENRY,  present  duke. 

The  mansion  of  Euston  is  large  and  commodious,  built  with  red  brick,  of 
modern  date,  and  without  any  gaudy  decorations  within  or  without.  The 
house  is  almost  surrounded  with  trees  of  uncommon  growth,  and  the  most 
healthy  and  luxuriant  appearance,  and  near  it  glides  the  river  Ouse.  The 
scenery  about  the  hall  and  park  combines  the  most  delightful  assemblage 
of  rural  objects  that  can  well  be  imagined,  and  is  justly  celebrated  by  the 
author  of  the  "  Farmer's  Boy." 

The  estate  is  not  less  than  between  thirty  and  forty  miles  in  circum- 
ference, including  a  number  of  villages  and  hamlets.  On  an  elevated  situa- 
tion in  the  park  stands  the  temple.  This  elegant  structure  was  designed 
for  a  banqueting-house,  and  was  built  by  the  celebrated  Kent,  under  the 
auspices  of  Henry,  3rd  Duke  of  Grafton,  who  laid  the  first  stone  himself  in 
1746.  It  consists  of  an  upper  and  lower  apartment,  and  is  in  the  Grecian 
style  of  architecture.  It  forms  an  interesting  object  from  many  points  of 
view  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  commands  a  wide  range  of  prospect. 

Bloomfield,  in  his  "  Autumn,"  thus  eulogizes  Euston  and  its  noble  pro- 
prietor : 

"  Here  smiling  Euston  boasts  her  good  Fitzroy 
Lord  of  pure  alms,  and  gifts  that  wide  extend, 
The  farmer's  patron,  and  the  poor  man's  friend  ; 
Whose  mansion  glitt'ring  with  the  eastern  ray, 
Whose  elevated  temple  points  the  way 
O'er  slopes  and  lawns,  the  park's  extensive  pride, 
To  where  the  victims  of  the  chase  reside." 

23rantfon  19arfe  ariB  ftflanov,  to. 

THIS  ancient  manor  and  estate  appear  to  have  been  in  the  possession  of  King 
Henry  III.,  by  whom,  in  the  thirty-fifth  year  of  his  reign,  they  were  granted 
to  Hugh  Bishop  of  Ely,  and  his  successors,  together  with  free  chase  in  all 
their  demesnes  in  that  part  of  the  country.  So,  the  lands  remained  until  the 
time  of  ELIZABETH,  when  they  reverted  to  the  crown,  in  consequence,  it  is 
presumed,  of  an  exchange  by  the  See  for  other  estates  :  an  inference  borne 
out  by  various  records  of  the  periods  attesting  that  during  the  reign  of  Eliza- 
beth and  her  immediate  successor,  no  less  than  twenty  suits  were  instituted 
connected  with  the  Brandon  property,  and  that  in  one,  a  commision  issued 
out  of  the  Court  of  Exchequer,  directed  to  Sir  John  Heigham,  Knt.  and 
Robert  Peyton,  Esq.  to  enquire  into  the  subject  of  the  controversy  and  to 
return  a  certificate  of  their  opinion  thereon.  The  result  of  this  investigation 
was  an  award  in  favour  of  the  crown,  in  which  it  was  declared  that  the 

THE    LANDS    OF    ENGLAND.  143 

manor,  with  free  chase,  right  and  royalties,  vested ;  and  under  this  re- 
cognition James  I.,  in  the  third  year  of  his  reign,  granted  the  estate 
to  his  son  Prince  Charles  and  his  heirs  male  :  we  next  find  Brandon 
in  the  possession  of  Lord  Villiers,  Viscount  Purbeck,  elder  brother 
of  the  celebrated  court  favourite  George,  Duke  of  Buckingham,  and  it 
remained  with  the  Wrights,  who  claimed  to  be  Lord  Purbeck's  descendants, 
and  long  sought  the  family  honours,  until  1727,  when  John  Wright,  alias 
Villiers,  who  assumed  the  titles  of  Viscount  Purbeck  and  Earl  of  Bucking- 
ham, becoming  the  associate  of  gamblers,  and  dissipating  his  inheritance, 
sold  the  lands  and  manor  of  Brandon  to  the  trustees  of  the  will  of  the  Lord 
Chief  Justice  Holt.  At  length  in  1818,  Admiral  George  Wilson,  of  Red- 
grave, whose  mother  was  the  heiress  of  the  Holts,  alienated  Brandon,  with 
the  manor,  rights  and  royalties,  to  the  late  EDWARD  BLISS,  Esq.,  a  gentle- 
man of  great  opulence,  and  public  spirit,  who  devoting  unceasing  attention 
to  the  improvement  of  his  purchase,  was  enabled  to  improve  the  district  to  a 
most  remarkable  extent,  and  to  ameliorate,  in  an  equal  degree,  the  condition 
of  the  poor,  by  occupying  them  advantageously  for  their  own  interest  as 
well  as  for  that  of  the  community  at  large.  Not  long  after  the  acquisition 
of  Brandon,  he  commenced  planting,  and  in  less  than  six  months  covered 
a  large  portion  of  the  land  with  no  fewer  than  eight  millions  of  trees,  thus 
transforming  tracts  hitherto  wild  and  sterile  into  richly  wooded  plantations 
and  productive  farms.  Mr.  Bliss,  who  was  a  justice  of  the  peace,  and 
served  as  High  Sheriff  of  Suffolk  in  1836,  died  2nd  April,  1845,  possessed 
of  immense  wealth.  Desirous  of  being  buried  on  his  own  estate,  he  had 
erected  a  spacious  mausoleum  near  the  house,  embosomed  in  plantations, 
and  there  "now  repose  his  mortal  remains.'  Brandon  Park,  with  its  fine 
mansion  and  the  whole  of  his  other  property,  (subject  to  some  life  annuities) 
passed  to  his  nephew  Henry  Aldridge,  Esq.,  who  by  sign  manual  changed 
his  name  to  Bliss,  and  is  the  present  lord  of  the  manor. 

The  following  acrostic,  addressed  to  the  late  Mr.  Bliss,  on  his  adornment 
of  Brandon,  is  ascribed  to  the  pen  of  his  early  friend,  Lord  Eldon  : — 

E-nchanted  I  view  the  scene  with  surprise : 
D-oes  not  illusion  deceive  my  rapt  eyes  ? 
W-here  are  the  sands,  and  where  is  the  warren  ? 
A-re  not  these  scenes,  to  my  memory  foreign  ? 
R-abbits  and  conies  were  lords  of  the  soil, 
D-eep  sands  made  the  traveller's  journey  a  toil, 
B-ut  now  the  smooth  turnpike  invites  to  proceed  : 
L-o  the  warren  is  changed  to  a  sweet  verdant  mead ! 
I-nstead  of  a  desert,  like  Arabic  ground 
S-ee  a  Palace  adorns,  and  forests  abound  ; 
S-ee  Bliss  has  created  a  Paradise  round. 

VOL.    IV.    NO.    XVI. 



[list  bn.e  : 


'•;'.'•''  •'V.'O.'.t.'i1'!    ';i!.<-i').'  ' 

THE  publication  of  Sir  Harris  Nicolas  on  this  subject  belongs  to  that 
branch  of  human  learning  ranged  by  Lord  Bacon  under  the  general 
category  of  rt  Antiquities  or  remnants  of  history,"  and  which  were 
likened  by  him  to  the  painting  of  a  wreck  (tabula  naufragii)  which  is, 
says  he,  when  industrious  persons  by  an  exact  and  scrupulous  diligence 
and  observation,  out  of  monuments,  names,  words,  proverbs,  traditions, 
private  records  and  evidences,  fragments  of  stories,  passages  of  books 
that  concern  not  story  and  the  like,  do  save  and  recover  somewhat  from 
the  deluge  of  time.  In  considering  the  general  condition  of  human  know- 
ledge and  learning  in  his  day  he  assigned  no  deficience  to  antiquities, 
"  because  any  deficience  in  them  is  but  their  nature." 

Be  this  however  as  it  may,  that  which  was  "  antiquities"  has  here 
become  "  history"  through  the  zeal  and  disinterested  exertions  of  the 
learned  author  j  and  the  judges,  parties  and  witnesses  who  figured  in 
the  celebrated  case  of  Scrope  and  Grosvenor  are  again  before  us  in  all 
the  reality  of  a  representment, 

"  Lifeless  yet  lifelike  and  awful  to  sight;" 

grim  seamed  warriors,  tried  in  the  wars  of  "  le  bon  roy  Edward  tierce 
que  Dieu  assoile,"  and  companions  of  the  Black  Prince,  youthful 
knights  and  esquires,  "  per  poy  de  temps  armez/'  royal  dukes  and  mitred 
abbots  !  There  are — 

"  Old  John  of  Gaunt,  time-honour'd  Lancaster — 
And  Harry  Hotspur  the  all  hepraised  knight;" 

and  on  the  opposite  side  in  this  suit  his  antipodes,  the  cool,  calculating, 
fantastic,  conceited  Glendower, 

"  The  great  magician,  the  damn'd  Glendower," 

besides  Stanleys,  and  Breretons,  and  Courtenays,  and  Grays,  and  Cliffords, 
and  Talbots,  and  a  host  of  historical  names,  and  with  them  one  belong- 
ing to  the  aristocracy  of  English  genius,  whose  name  blazes  like  a 
beacon  in  that  remote  age, 

"  The  morning  star  of  song, 
Dan  Chancer." 

We  have  them  all  upon  their  examinations,  princes  and  earls  answering 
"parlafoy  de  chivalerie,"  and  those  of  inferior  degree  upon  their  oaths. 

Whether  we  consider  the  names  of  the  parties  whose  depositions  were 
taken,  or  of  the  parties  interested,  or  of  the  judges  in  the  first  or  last 
resort,  the  extraordinary  constitution  of  the  tribunal,  or  the  curious 
subject  matter  of  the  controversy,  there  are  few  of  us  who  will  fail  to 
find  in  the  perusal  of  the  original  record  of  the  case  of  Scrope  and 
Grosvenor  and  the  notes  appended  a  wide  field  for  fruitful  meditation. 
Who  will  grudge  to  the  author  his  meed  of  thanks  and  commendation, 
the  just  salvage  for  his  rescue  of  this  wreck  (once  more  a  trim  and 
gallant  vessel)  from  the  "deluge  of  time?" 

The  perusal  of  the  case  of  Scrope  and  Grosvenor  involves  a  considera- 
tion of  the  origin,  nature  and  jurisdiction  of  the  once  redoubtable  tribu- 


nal  of  the  constable  and  marshal.  But  to  what  source  shall  we  refer  for 
authentic  materials  upon  this  subject?  Dr.  Plott's  treatise  on  the  Curia 
Militaris  exists  I  believe  only  in  its  title  page  and  table  of  contents,  the 
records  of  the  court  are  for  the  most  part  destroyed,  Sir  Robert  Cotton's 
collection  (however  valuable  may  be  the  information  that  it  affords)  is 
not  available  but  to  the  laborious  student  and  patient  investigator.  If  we 
turn  for  incidental  notice  to  our  books  of  reports,  meagre  indeed  is  the 
result ;  the  questions  therein  raised  respecting  the  tribunal  affect  merely 
a  small  branch  of  its  jurisdiction.  In  this  dearth  of  accessible  materials, 
the  Cottonian  MSS.  unconsulted  from  want  of  time,  we  have,  as  autho- 
rities for  the  following  resume',  been  compelled  to  rest  contented  with 
the  case  of  Lord  Rea  and  Ramsay  in  our  State  Trials,  with  Camden's 
disquisitions  On  the  Office  of  Earl  Marshal,  a  few  manuscript  treatises 
in  the  Inner  Temple  Library,  and  with  Dr.  Duck's  remarks  upon  the 
Curia  Militaris  contained  in  the  work  De  Usu  et  Authoritate  Juris  Civilis, 
termed  by  Struvius  "  non  inelegans  tractatus,"  and  one  of  those  few 
treatises  written  by  British  lawyers  to  which  foreign  jurists  condescend 
to  refer-  Dr.  Duck's  opinions  upon  this  subject  may  be  considered  as 
peculiarly  valuable,  for  he  was  appointed  by  King  Charles  I.  his  advocate 
in  the  Court  of  Chivalry  (promotor  oausarum  regiarum),  and  was  counsel 
in  the  last  cause  of  arms  (Lord  Reay  v.  Ramsay)  ever  brought  before  that 
dreaded  tribunal,  and  in  which  two  other  celebrated  antiquaries,  original 
members  of  the  Society  of  Antiquaries  (Selden  and  Cotton)  had  been 
also  consulted.  The  judges  of  the  Court  of  Chivalry  were  the  constable 
and  marshal,  invested  with  equal  authority  for  the  decision  of  causes, 
although  the  marshal  alone  was  intrusted  with  the  execution  of  the 
judgments  awarded.*  It  cannot  be  affirmed  that  these  offices  existed  in 
the  time  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  kings ;  on  the  contrary,  rather  were  they 
introduced  by  the  Norman  princes  after  the  example  of  the  Gauls,  who, 
anciently  in  imitation  of  the  Romans,  had  as  far  back  as  the  reign  of 
Charlemagne  their  constables  and  marshals  strongly  resembling,  as 
French  writers  themselves  attest,  the  magistri  equitum  and  tribuni 
celerum  of  the  Romans. f  Be  this  however  as  it  may,  both  offices 
were  ever  regarded  in  this  country  as  of  the  most  exalted  nature.  That 
of  constable  has  been  filled  by  sons,  brothers  or  uncles  of  our  kings, 
and  finally  descended  by  right  of  inheritance  to  the  Staffords,  dukes  of 
Buckingham,  by  whom  it  was  long  held  until  the  hereditary  office  itself 
was  abolished  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.,  at  the  death  and  attainder  of 
Edward,  Duke  of  Buckingham.  The  power  of  the  constable  was  so 
great  that  it  became  at  last  an  object  of  suspicion  to  the  crown  itself  j 
and  when  the  chief  justice  was  asked  by  Henry  VIII.  as  to  the  degree 
of  authority  possessed  by  the  constable,}  he  begged  to  decline  the  ques- 
tion, affirming  that  the  solution  belonged  to  the  law  of  arms  and  not  to 
the  law  of  England.  From  that  time  the  office  has  rarely  been  granted 
by  the  sovereigns,  and  when  conferred  it  has  only  been  for  occasional 
purposes, §  such  as  coronations  or  particular  trials  in  which  the  common 
law  provided  no  adequate  remedy. 

The  court  derived  a  considerable  accession  of  pomp  and  dignity  from 
the  circumstance  of  the  heralds  acting  as  its  officers.  These  were  gar- 
ter king  at  arms  (especially  charged  with  the  forms  and  ceremonies  con- 

*  Coke,  4  Institvile,  c.  17.  t  Duck. 

S  4  Institute,  c   17.  J  Kdw.  Rep.  Mich.  Term.  6  Henry  VIII.  f.  171. 


nected  with  the  illustrious  Order  of  the  Garter),  Clarencieux  king  at  arms 
for  the  south  of  England,  Norroy  king  at  arms  for  the  northern  districts, 
and  six  other  inferior  heralds  or  pursuivants.  The  principal  office  of  the 
heralds  was  to  act  as  messengers  of  pence  and  war,  to  charge  themselves 
with  the  settlement  of  the  rank,  genealogies  and  arms  of  our  families, 
to  marshal  the  ceremonies  attending  the  coronations  of  our  sovereigns, 
and  the  proceedings  upon  duels  before  the  constable  and  marshal,  to 
arrange  the  funeral  rites  of  deceased  nobles  and  gentlemen  upon  occa- 
sions of  solemnity,  besides  other  duties  which  devolved  upon  them  by 
virtue  of  their  appointment,  they  were  formed  into  a  college  and  invested 
with  many  privileges  by  the  English  kings  and  exercised  their  functions 
under  the  authority  and  jurisdiction  of  the  constable  and  marshal. 

Proceedings. — The  authority  of  the  civil  law  in  the  court  is  recognized 
by  all  our  books,*  and  is  styled  law  of  the  realm,  law  of  the  crown, 
law  of  the  land.f  It  is  also  clear  that  all  suits  before  that  tribunal  were 
always  dealt  with  by  the  civil  law  and  the  customs  of  arms,  and  not  by  the 
common  law  of  England,  and  accordingly  a  sentence  of  death  entailed 
no  forfeiture  of  land  or  corruption  of  blood. \ 

But  since  the  constable  and  marshal  had  other  public  affairs  of  impor- 
tance to  attend  to,  a  doctor  or  other  lawyer  of  experience  versed  in  the  im- 
perial jurisprudence  was  occasionally  appointed  for  life  to  direct  the  pro- 
.ceedings§;  so  in  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.,a  learned  civilian  was  made  king's 
advocate  in  the  same  court. ||  Dr.  Duck  held  a  similar  office  by  patent 
from  Charles  I.  dated  the  seventh  year  of  his  reign. 

All  causes  proceeded  according  to  the  forms  prescribed  by  the  civil  law, 
i.e.  libel,  or  petition  ;  the  witnesses  were  privately  examined  j  the  pleas, 
replications  and  other  proceedings  observed  the  forms  of  the  same  juris- 
prudence, the  decrees  were  in  writing,  as  likewise  were  the  appeaU. 
The  dignity  and  supremacy  of  the  court  were  such  that  wherever  any  one 
excepted  to  its  jurisdiction,  the  matter  was  referred  to  the  lords  of  the 
privy  council.  Appeals  from  definitive  sentences  have  for  the  most  part 
been  made  not  to  the  chancellors,  but  to  the  kings  themselves,  who  have 
thereupon  generally  nominated  as  delegates  the  chief  nobles  of  England 
associating  with  them  some  doctors  of  the  civil  law.  All  this  once  and  per- 
haps still  clearly  appears  by  the  records  of  this  Court,  preserved  in  the  Royal 
Archives  in  the  Tower  of  London,  which  it  has  been  said  frequently  fur- 
nish readings  upon  the  Roman  jurisprudence.^}  The  court  of  the  con- 
stable and  marshal  had  cognisance  of  crimes  committed  in  lands  out  of 
the  realm,  of  contracts  made  in  foreign  parts,  and  of  things  that  pertain 
to  war  and  arms  whether  within  the  realm  or  in  foreign  parts.** 

1.  Of  Crimes  committed  on  Lands  out  of  the  Realm. — Thus  where  one 
Englishman  charged  another  Englishman  with  the  commission  of  treason 
out  of  England,  the  proceeding  was  before  the  constable  and  rnarshal,ft 

*  Fortesc.  de  Legib.  Angl.  c.   32  ;  Finch  in  Nomotechn.  lib.  4.  cap.     ;  Coke,  1  Inst. 
c.  1  ;  sec.  3,;  and  4  Inst.  c.  74. 

t  Mich.  Term,  32  Henry  VI.  f.  3 ;  Pasch  Term,  37  Henry  VI.  Tresp.  8.  f.  21  ;  Kelw. 
Mich.  Term,  6  Henry  VIII.  f.  171 ;  Coke,  1  Inst.  lib.  1.  c.  1,  sec.  3 ;  and  4  Inst.  c.  74. 

J  Coke,  4  Inst.  c.  17. 

§  Coke,  4  Inst.  c.17.  ex  par.  2,  patent  23  Hen.VI.  memb.  20  23.   Edw.  III.  merab.  2. 

II   Patent  8  Edward  IV.  memb.  1  ;  Coke,  4  Inst.  c.  17. 

fi  Duck  De  Authoritate  Juris  Civilis,  lib.  2,  c.  8,  part  3,  s.  22. 
*  Duck  De  Authoritate  Juris  Civilis,  lib.  2,  cap.  8,  part  3,  s.  15  ;  Reeves'  History  of 
the  English  Law,  3rd  ed.  vol.  3,  p.  195, 196,  vol.  4,  p.  303.  Stat.  13  Rich.  II.  stat,  1.  c.  2. 

ft  Coke  1  Institute,  lib.  2,  cap.  3,  sec.  102  ;  37  Henry  VI.  f.  3. 


and  the  proof  was  by  witnesses  or  (by  the  ancient  customs  of  this  court) 
by  the  duel.  So  where  one  of  the  king's  subjects  killed  another  subject 
in  Scotland  or  elsewhere  in  foreign  parts,  neither  the  courts  of  common 
law  here*  nor  Parliament  itself f  had  jurisdiction  j  and  accordingly  when 
Francis  Drake  had  put  one  Dourish  to  death  in  America  in  the  25th 
year  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  his  brother  and  next  heir  claimed  justice 
at  the  hands  of  the  queen,  the  judges  having  been  consulted  on  the 
subject  advised  her  majesty  that  no  proceeding  could  be  instituted  with 
reference  to  the  offence  but  before  the  constable  and  marshal, J  and 
weighty  reasons  deterring  her,  the  queen  refused  to  appoint  a  constable, 
and  so  the  charge  fell  to  the  ground.  But  when,  during  the  reign  of 
Charles  I.  A.D.  1632,  William  Holmes  an  Englishman  had  killed  with 
his  sword  William  Wise  another  Englishman  in  Newfoundland,  and  the 
widow  petitioned  Charles  I.  to  be  admitted  to  an  appeal  of  her  husband's 
death,  the  Earl  Lindsay  was  appointed  constable  for  that  eole  occasion, 
and  he  and  the  Lord  Arundel,  Earl  Marshal  of  England,  by  a  definitive 
sentence  promulgated  in  the  Court  of  Chivalry  in  April,  16  3S,  condemned 
Holmes  to  death,  a  fate  from  which  he  was  only  saved  by  a  royal  pardon, § 
So  also  where  one  Englishman  inflicted  a  mortal  wound  upon  another 
Englishman  in  France  whereof  the  latter  afterwards  died  in  this  country, 
he  could  not  be  tried  at  common  law,  but  only  in  the  Court  of  Chivalry. || 
It  is  true  that,  as  far  as  treason  committed  out  of  the  realm  was  con- 
.cerned,  the  court  ceased  to  have  exclusive  jurisdiction  by  the  effect  of 
several  acts  afterwards  passed,  which  rendered  that  crime  cognizable 
also  by  the  Court  of  King's  Bench  or  Royal  Commissioners.^ 

2.  Of  Contracts  made  in  Foreign  Parts. — Of  these,  this  court  had  also 
cognizance.  Thus,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  IV.,  one  Pountney  impleaded 
one  Burney  Knight,  before  the  constable  and  marshal  in.respect  of  a  loan 
of  £10  made  at  Bourdeaux  in  Gascony.**  And  in  the  national  rolls  once 
preserved  in  the  Tower  of  London  numerous  instances  occurred  of  judg- 
ments in  this  court  respecting  all  kinds  of  civil  contracts  made  abroad, 
especially  during  the  reigns  of  Edward  III.,  Richard  II.,  Henry  IV.,  Hen- 
ry V.  and  Henry  VI.,  whilst  the  English  crown  held  Normandy,  Aquitaine, 
Anjou,  and  other  extensive  provinces  in  France.ff  Indeed  the  notion 
prevailed  generally  amongst  us,  that  the  cognizance  of  contracts  made 
abroad  belonged  of  right  to  this  tribunal  and  that  of  contracts  made 
within  the  realm  to  the  courts  of  common  law.^  Originally  the  Court 
of  Chivalry  must  have  had  exclusive  cognizance  in  the  case  of  such 
foreign  contracts.  In  -the  process  of  time,  however,  the  courts  of  com- 
mon law  contrived  to  obtain  a  concurrent  jurisdiction  by  the  fiction 
which  enabled  them  to  be  averred  as  if  made  in  England.  For  it  has 
long  been  settled  in  our  courts  where  one  Englishman  has  taken  the 

*  Rot.  Parl.  3  Henry  VI.  memb.  38  ;  Stamford,  pi.  Coronas,  65  ;  Coke,']  Inst.  lib.  2  ; 
cap.  3,  sec.  102  ;  4  Inst,  c.  17  ;  and  2  Inst.  ad  Magn.  Chart,  c.  29. 

t  Stat.  1  Henry  IV.  c.  14. 

£  Coke  1  Inst.  lib.  2,  cap.  3,  sec.  102. 

§  Duck,  De  Authoritate  Juris  Civilis,  lib.  2,  cap.  8,  pars  3,  s.  16. 

||  Coke,  1  Inst.  lib.  2,  cap.  3,  s.  102,  and  lib.  3,  cap.  13,  sec.  745. 

t  St.  26  Henry  VIII.  c.  13;  35  Henry  VIII.  c.  2  ;  5  Ed.  VI.  c.  11  ;  Coke,  4  Inst. 
cap.  17. 

**  Ter.  Mich.  13  Hen.  IV. 

tt  Coke  1  Inst.  lib.  3,  cap.  13,  sec.  745,  4  Inst.  c.  17  ;  Selden  ad  Fortesc,  cap.  32, 

tJ  Mich.  Term,  13  Hen.  IV. ;  Dalt.  10;  Fortesc.  de  Leg.  Angl.  c.  32. 


goods  of  another  Englishman  or  made  a  contract  with  him  abroad,  that 
actions  may  in  either  respect  be  supported  in  the  courts  of  common 
law  here  by  a  suggestion  which  the  opposite  party  may  not  deny,  that 
the  goods  were  taken  or  the  contracts  entered  into  in  some  place  within 
this  kingdom.  Just  as  the  testaments  of  Roman  citizens  captured  by 
hostile  nations  were  supported  by  the  fictions  postlimii  and  of  the  lex 
Cornelia  3  for  when  a  Roman  citizen  had  become  a  slave  to  any  hostile 
people  he  at  once  lost  not  merely  his  freedom  but  all  the  rights  and 
privileges  of  a  Roman  citizen,  so  that  his  will  previously  made  would 
have  became  inoperative,  but  for  the  aid  of  these  expedients,  for  it  was 
considered  that  if  he  returned  to  his  country  his  testament  might  be  set 
up  by  the  fiction  (postlimii)  which  supposed  him  never  to  have  been 
captured  or  absent  from  his  country,  and  if  on  the  other  hand  he  died 
a  captive,  by  the  fiction  that  he  had  died  before  captured,  a  Roman 
citizen. J 

The  main  and  essential  difference  between  the  English  and  the  civil 
law  in  this  respect  being,  that  the  expedients  in  the  former  case  originated 
with  the  lawyers,  in  the  latter  with  the  leg'slative  authority  j  and  in  the 
former,  were  devised  to  gain  a  jurisdiction,  in  the  latter  to  remedy  a  de- 
fect in  legal  principle. 

3.  Of  Things  that  pertain  to  War  and  Arms  whether  within  the  Realm  or 
in  Foreign  Parts. — These  constituted  another  branch  of  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  constable  and  marshal,  who  were  said  to  have  the  sole  cognizance 
of  all  controversies  arising  out  of  war  or  arms.*  Where  an  alien 
entered  England  and  levied  war  upon  our  sovereign  he  could  not  for- 
merly be  proceeded  against  or  punished  by  the  law  of  England  any- 
where but  in  the  Court  of  Chivalry,t  wherefore  the  constable  and 
marshal  were  styled  keepers  of  the  peace  of  the  realm. 

And  as  order  is  one  of  the  first  principles  of  a  monarchy,  and  as 
order  supposes  inequalities  of  ranks  and  suggests  the  necessity  of 
an  ordering  or  marshalling,  all  that  attended  the  court  or  the  camp 
of  the  sovereign  had  to  be  arranged  in  their  proper  stations,  and  these 
were  regulated  by  certain  armorial  bearings  or  insignia  which  were  worn 
either  in  their  own  right  or  in  his  right  whom  they  served  or  followed. 
The  cognizance  of  all  controversies  springing  out  of  the  user  or  as- 
sumption of  these  insignia  belonged  wholly  to  the  Court  of  Chivalry  j 
and  serious  indeed  were  the  quarrels  and  dissensions  to  which  they  gave 
rise,  when  two  or  more  families  laid  claim  to  the  same  arms  :  sanguin- 
ary feuds  were  often  the  consequence  j  this  was  more  especially  the 
case  amongst  the  feudal  nobles  of  France  and  Italy. 

As  an  instance  of  the  jealousy  that  was  then  felt  at  anyinferferencewith 
armorial  ensigns,  may  be  cited  the  deposition  of  John  Charnels,  who 
says  of  Sir  William  Scrope  of  Mashani  :  "  Being  in  garrison  during 
the  old  war  in  a  castle,  called  Quarranteau,  he  with  forty  of  his  com- 
rades irade  a  chivauchee  to  the  castle  of  Timbre,  higher  up  the 
country,  designing  to  take  any  other  castle  or  to  perform  some  piece  of 
service  in  their  route.  Among  them  was  Sir  William  Scrope,  brother 
he  believed  of  Sir  Henry  Scrope  ;  and  finding  the  garrison  of  Geneville, 
without  the  town,  and  in  disorder,  Charnels  and  his  comrades  attacked 

+  Duck  de  Authoritate  Juris  Civilis,  lib.  ii,  c.  8  pars  8,  s.  18. 

*  Sta.  13  Richard  I.,  c.  2. 

±  Finch  in  Nomotcchn.  lib.  4.  c.  1. 


them  and  made  about  forty  prisoners.  A  knight,  called  Sir  Philip  de 
la  Monstue,  became  prisoner  to  Charnels  and  because  he  was  armed  in 
the  entire  arms  of  Sir  William  Scrope,  he  wished  to  kill  him.  Charnels 
therefore  made  his  prisoner  divest  himself  of  his  arms,  or  Scrope  would 
certainly  have  put  him  to  death.''  It  may  indeed  have  been  that  doubts, 
which  had  been  raised  as  to  the  Scrope  right  in  this  particular,  had 
made  the  members  of  the  family  more  than  ordinarily  sensitive  upon 
the  subject ;  and  we  find  several  depositions  of  the  Grosvenor  witnesses 
in  which  old  soldiers  somewhat  sneeringly  insinuate  that  two  law- 
yers were  the  first  of  the  family  who  had  borne  the  arms ;  and  it  is  ex- 
pressly stated  that  at  an  early  period  of  his  life,  Sir  Richard  Scrope 
made  proposals  for  the  daughter  of  Sir  Robert  Hilton  ;  but  the  terms 
not  being  accepted,  he  married  a  daughter  of  Sir  William  de  la  Pole  5 
at  which  Hilton  was  so  enraged  that  he  said :  "  I  am  glad  that  he  did 
not  marry  my  daughter,  for  I  have  heard  that  he  is  not  a  '  grand  gentil 
homme/  "  To  which  however  Sir  John  Hasethorpe,  then  more  than  an 
hundred  years  old,  replied  :  ' '  Sir,  say  not  so,  for  I  assure  you,  on  my  soul, 
he  is  descended  from  grands  gentils  hommes  from  the  times  of  the  con- 
quest." In  addition  to  this,  there  were  about  that  time  two  other  rival 
claimants  to  the  arms  in  question,  a  Carminow  and  a  Grosvenor;  even 
Sir  Richard  Scrope's  right  to  bear  his  crest,  a  crab  issuing  from  a  ducal 
crown,  had  been  challenged  at  Calais  forty  years  before  the  suit  of 
Scrope  v.  Grosvenor,  which  might  render  Sir  William  Scrope  still 
more  tender  upon  the  point. 

In  Italy  political  subdivisions,  fortunately  for  the  domestic  peace  of 
that  country,  tended  in  some  measure  to  keep  adverse  claimants  of  simi- 
lar arms  asunder,  so  that  their  animosity  could  only  display  itself  upon 
rare  occasions.  For  the  local  government  would  only  interfere  between 
families  in  the  same  state  ;  consequently  the  ancient  Florentine  family 
of  Delia  Presa  were  suffered  with  impunity  to  bear  the  same  arms  as 
the  equally  ancient  Venetian  family  Cornari,  of  which  descendants  are 
said  to  exist  in  this  country  under  the  Anglicised  form,  Corner.  So 
the  Dandoli  of  Venice,  of  whom  was 

"  blind  old  Dandalo 
The  octogenarian  chief,  Byzantium's  conquering  foe," 

and  the  Giandonati  of  Florence,  houses  of  almost  equal  antiquity  had 
the  same  heraldic  insignia.  The  same  was  the  case  with  the  Fieschi 
of  Genoa  and  the  Inbangati  of  Florence. 

The  Scotti  of  Parma  bear,  we  believe,  the  Douglas  arms,  but  then  they 
are  said  to  be  of  the  same  race. 

The  same  reason  which  hindered  the  supreme  authority  in  the  differ- 
ent states  of  Italy  from  interfering  where  the  same  arms  were  borne  by 
foreign  families,  weighed,  it  would  seem  in  influencing  the  decision  of  a 
cause  of  arms  in  which  Sir  Richard  Scrope  had  been  engaged  before 
his  contest  with  Sir  Robert  Grosvenor.  Sir  Richard  had  been  challenged 
by  an  esquire  of  Cornwall,  named  Carminow,  as  to  his  right  to  bear  tho 
arms,  azure  a  bend  or,  and  the  dispute  was  decided  by  the  Duke  of 
Lancaster,  the  Earl  of  Northampton,  the  constable,  and  the  Earl  of 
Warwick,  the  marshal  of  the  army,  who  adjudged  that  they  might 
both  bear  the  said  arms  entire,  on  the  ground  that  Carminow  was  of 


Cornwall  which  was  a  large  country  and  was  formerly  a  kingdom,  and  that 
the  Scropes  had  borne  them  since  the  conquest. 

In  this  country  discussions  not  seldom  arose,  which  were  brought 
before  the  Court  of  Chivalry :  such  were  the  cases  of  Sir  Reginald  Grey 
de  Ruthven  and  Sir  Edward  Hastings,  Thomas  Bawdy  and  Nicholas 
Singleton,  and  many  others  which  after  long  litigation  and  debate  were 
finally  settled  either  by  a  judicial  sentence  of  the  curia  militaris,  by  an 
appeal  to  the  arbitrament  of  the  duel,  or  to  the  king  himself,  as  was  the 
course  taken  in  the  most  celebrated  case  of  them  all,  that  of  Sir  Richard 
Scrope  and  Sir  Robert  Grosvenor.* 

The  cause  of  Hastings  and  Gray  de  Ruthven,  before  the  consta- 
ble and  marshal,  regarded  the  right  to  bear  the  arms  of  Hastings,  or  a 
maunch  gu.  It  lasted  twenty  years  and  was  finally  decided  against 
Hastings,  who  was  condemned  in  heavy  costs  and  imprisoned  sixteen 
years  for  disobeying  the  judgment  of  the  court. 

The  cause  of  Baudy  and   Singleton  respected  the  right  to  the  arms. 

fules   three  chevronels  or,  and  it  is  singular  enough  that   Sir  Richard 
crope  was  one   of  the  peers  commanded  by  the  king  (18  Richard  II.) 
to  settle  the  affair  so  similar  to  the  one  in  which  he  had  himself  been  a 

The  proceedings  in  the  Scrope  and  Grosvenor  controversy  extend  from 
1385  to  1389,  during  the  whole  of  which  period  Thomas  of  Woodstock, 
Duke  of  Gloucester,  youngest  son  of  Edward  III.,  was  Lord  High 
Constable,  and  Thomas  de  Mowbray,  Earl  of  Nottingham,  subsequently 
created  Duke  of  Norfolk,  was  Earl  Marshal,  the  first  who  had  the  title 
of  earl  prefixed  to  the  name  of  office.  It  is  noted  that  the  high  appoint- 
ments of  Presidents  of  the  Court  of  Chivalry  were  assigned  to  each  of 
these  unfortunate  personages  on  account  of  female  connections,  the 
latter  representing,  on  the  mother's  side,  the  Brotherton  branch  of  the 
house  of  Plantagenet,  the  former  having  married  the  Lady  Alianore  de 
Bohun,  one  of  the  daughters  and  coheirs  of  Humphrey,  last  Earl  of 
Hereford,  Essex  and  Northampton,  in  whose  powerful  family  the  office 
of  Lord  High  Constable  of  England  had  been  hereditary  for  the  two 
preceding  centuries.  The  Lady  Margaret  Plantagenet,  Duchess  of 
Norfolk,  grandmother  of  Lord  Mowbray,  challenged  a  right  to  the  office 
of  Marshal  at  the  coronation  of  Richard  II.,  and  prayed  that  she  might 
perform  the  duties  by  deputy  ;  the  claim  however  was  not  then  allowed, 
Henry,  Lord  Percy  having  been  specially  appointed  to  act  as  Marshal 
upon  that  occasion.  The  prefix  of  earl  to  the  subsequent  appointment 
of  her  grandson  might  perhaps  be  used  to  obviate  any  slight  to  the 
Duchess  who  was  then  living.  Once  assumed  however  it  was  ever  after- 
wards retained.  This  illustrious  personage,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  lost  by 
his  hostility  to  the  king's  favourite  De  Vere  the  favour  of  the  crown, 
and  subsequently  bis  life.  The  Earl  Marshal  thinking  to  ingratiate  him- 
self with  King  Richard,  became  one  of  the  main  tools  of  his  murderous 
designs,  a  subserviency  that  did  not  save  himself  from  subsequent  ruin 
and  destruction  consequent  upon  the  denunciation  of  his  own  treasonous 
language  by  Henry  Duke  of  Hereford,  afterwards  Henry  IV.,  of  which 
so  graphic  and  vivid  a  picture  is  drawn  by  the  immortal  pen  of  our  great 
dramatist :  in  which  Bolingbroke  is  made  to  say, 

Duck  op.  cit.  lib.  11.  c.  8.  s<  xx. 


"  Now  Thomas  Mowbray,  do  I  turn  to  thee, 
And  mark  my  greeting  well ;  for  what  I  speak 
My  body  shall  make  good  upon  tl .is  earth, 
Or  my  divine  soul  answer  it  in  Heaven. 
Thou  art  a  traitor  and  a  miscreant ; 
Too  good  to  be  so  and  too  bad  to  live." 

RICHARD  II.,  Act  I ,  Scene  I. 

In  the  proceedings  in  the  case  of  Scrope  and  Grosvenor,  however, 
Thomas  of  Gloucester  took  the  principal  share,  and  the  Earl  Marshal 
seems  not  to  have  been  present  upon  any  of  the  occasions,  but  to  have  been 
represented  by  his  deputy  (Lieutenant)  Johan  de  Multon  ;  the  commissions 
to  examine  witnesses  run  in  the  name  of  the  constable  alone,  and  it 
is  noteworthy  that  the  writs  in  the  appeal  are  not  from  the  sentence  of 
the  Court  of  Chivalry,  nor  from  the  joint  judgment  of  the  constable 
and  the  marshal,  but  from  that  of  the  constable  alone.*  And  yet  Dr. 
Duckf  tells  us  that  the  "  conestabilis  et  marescallus  Angliae  pari  potestate 
in  causis  pronunciant."  But  it  is  manifest  from  the  history  of  the  Court 
of  Chivalry  and  from  royal  reluctance  to  revive  the  office,  that  if,  to  use 
Sir  Edward  Coke's  language,  the  Lord  High  Admiral  was  the  Neptune 
of  our  courts,  the  Lord  High  Constable  was  the  Mars  j  and  the  equality  of 
jurisdiction  assumed  by  the  Marshal  was  perhaps  not  prior  to  the  20th 
Rich.  II.,  when  he  was  first  named  in  the  King's  Patent  Earl  (comes 
rnarescallus.)  The  terms  of  the  stat.  13  Rich.  II.,  stat.  1,  c.  2,  seem 
also  to  favour  the  superior  authority  of  the  constable,  "To  the  con- 
stable" it  says,  "  belongs  the  cognizance  of  contracts  touching  deeds  of 
arms,"  &c.,  and  yet  in  a  subsequent  clause  it  permits  a  privy  seal  to 
issue  to  the  constable  and  marshal  to  surcease  certain  pleas, 

Thomas  of  Woodstock  would  seem  to  have  been  the  first  recognised 
head  of  the  Court  of  Chivalry  who  took  any  great  or  active  part  in 
giving  a  regular  and  legal  form  to  its  proceedings  j  and  there  are  extant 
in  the  libraries  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  and  of  the  Inner  Temple,  copies  of  a 
book  dedicated  and  presented  by  Thomas  Fitz  au  Roy,  Duke  of  Glou- 
cester to  his  cousin,  King  Richard,  containing  ordinances  regulating  trial 
by  battle.} 

The  ancient  Norman  house  of  Scrob,  Scroby,  Lescrope  or  Scrope, 
which  subsequently  became  severed  in  the  kindred  branches  of  the 
Scropes  of  Bolton,  and  of  Masham,  acted  a  conspicuous  part  in  almost  all 
the  great  occurrences  of  British  history,  from  the  reign  of  Edward  II. 
to  the  First  Charles,  during  which  period  it  has  been  observed  that  the 
family  produced  two  earls,  and  twenty  barons,  one  chancellor,  four 
treasurers,  and  two  chief  justices  of  England,  five  knights  of  the  garter 
and  numerous  bannerets,  the  highest  military  order  in  the  days  of 
chivalry.  Even  at  an  earlier  period  the  family  had  been  one  of  station 

*  Sciatis  quod  cum  constabularius  noster  Anglicc  in  quadam  causa  cle  et  super  armis 
de  azura  cum  una  benda  de  auro  inter  Ric.  Le  Scropum  militem  partem  actricem  ex 
parte  una  et  Robertum  Grosvenour  partem  defendentem  ex  altera  parte  in  curia 
nostra  militari  mota  et  pendente  procedens  quandam  sentendam  definitivam  injustam 
ut  asseritur  tulisset,  $c.  vol.  i.  p.  11,  and  p.  354,  356. 

t  Op.  cit.  lib.  ii.,  cap.  8,  s.  xiii. 

J  Lincoln's  Inn  Library  MSS.,  Sir  Thomas  Hale,  vol.  xi.  pi.  6.  The  ordinances 
of  Thomas,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  constable  of  England,  touching  battails  armed  within 
lists,  with  an  historical  and  legal  commentary.  Inner  Temple  Library  MSS.  the 
same,  with  a  comment  by  Sir  John  Burgh,  Knight,  and  proceedings  upon  an  appeal  of 
treason  before  the  constable  and  marshal  in  a  court  military. 

VOL.   IV     NO.   XIV,  N 


and  consideration,  and  if  a  chronicle  can  be  relied  on,  and  the  evidence  of 
the  Prior  of  Bardeney  and  Welton,  (one  of  the  deponents  in  favour  of 
Scrope)  can  be  esteemed  sufficient  identifications,  its  original  founder 
was  a  Norman  settled  in  this  country  in  the  time  of  Edward  the  Con- 
fessor, and  as  a  favourite  with  that  monarch,  excepted  out  of  the  general 
proscription,  which  it  seems,  drove  for  a  time  all  Normans  from  the  realm 
to  which,  not  long  afterwards,  they  were  to  give  laws.  But  be  this  how 
it  may,  and  the  coincidence  of  name  and  proximity  of  estates  counte- 
nance the  position,  certain  it  nevertheless  is  that  for  its  peculiar  splen- 
dour the  Scropes,  like  many  noble  families  of  more  recent  date,  were  in- 
debted to  the  profession  of  the  law.  Sir  Henry  le  Scrope,  eldest  son 
of  Sir  William  le  Scrope,  according  to  the  deposition  of  Sir  William 
A  ton,  was  with  the  assent  of  his  relatives  put  to  the  law,  mys  al  le  ley,  and 
was  made  a  judge  of  the  Court  of  King's  Bench,  27  Nov.  1308,  2  Edward 
II.  ;  he  afterwards  became  the  chief  justice.  He  was  a  knight  banneret, 
and  is  so  named  in  a  roll  of  arms  compiled  between  the  2  and  7  Edward 
II,,  which  describes  his  bearings  as  azure  a  bend  or,  charged  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  bend,  with  a  lion  passant  purpure.  The  Prior  of  Gisburgh,  (Sir 
Harris  Nicolas  says  the  Abbot  of  Coverham,  a  slight  inaccuracy,)  deposed 
that  the  lion  was  introduced  into  the  bend  in  consequence  of  a  grant  to 
one  of  the  Scropes  for  the  term  of  his  life  by  the  Earl  of  Lincoln,  a 
mode  of  marking  affection  and  friendship  by  no  means  unusual  at  that 
early  period,  although  it  was  afterwards  considered  that  as  honours  could 
alone  emanate  from  the  crown,  royal  assent  was  essential  to  the  validity 
of  any  such  grants  j  so  the  devise  of  his  arms  by  Lord  D'Eincourt  was 
questioned,  according  to  Sir  Edward  Coke,  in  the  House  of  Lords.  How- 
ever Selden  and  Camden  have  alluded  to  the  practice,  and  Cheshire 
historians  have  commented  upon  the  frequency  of  the  garb  in  the  bear- 
ing of  families  of  that  county  which  was  assumed  as  a  mark  of  respect 
for  or  connection  with  the  Earls  of  Cheshire. 

By  far  the  most  illustrious  member  of  the  house  of  Scrope,  of  Bolton, 
was  however  Sir  Richard,  the  plaintiff  in  this  suit  of  arms,  who  appears 
to  have  been  conspicuous  for  the  rare  union  of  the  qualities  essential  to 
the  judge,  the  statesman  and  the  warrior.  Present  in  the  battles  of 
Cressy,  Durham,  Najarra,  the  friend  and  comrade-in-arms  of  the  most 
eminent  noblemen  of  the  time,  he  rilled  amongst  other  high  offices,  those 
of  treasurer,  steward  of  the  king's  household,  and  lord  high  chancellor. 
He  appears  to  have  been  honoured  by  the  respect  and  confidence  of 
those  sovereigns.  John  of  Gaunt  was  his  especial  patron  ;  the  Black 
Prince  presented  him  with  a  covered  tankard:  a  sword  of  Edward  III. 
(probably  also  a  gift  from  the  monarch)  Sir  Richard  bequeathed  by  his 
will  to  his  son  Stephen;  Richard  II.  heaped  dignities  upon  him  and 
his  family,  and  we  find  Henry  IV.  in  the  first  year  of  his  reign  protesting 
"  that  he  then  considered  him,  and  had  always  deemed  him,  a  loyal 

The  termination  of  his  long  and  eventful  career  was  embittered  by 
the  downfall  of  his  eldest  son  the  Earl  of  Wilts,  who  fell  a  sacrifice  to 
the  cause  of  the  dethroned  monarch  whose  favorite  he  had  been.  "  Few 
incidents,"  says  Sir  H.  Nicolas,  "  can  be  imagined  of  a  more  affect- 
ing description  than  the  scene  in  Parliament,  when  the  attainder  of 
the  Earl  of  Wiltshire  was  confirmed.  Rising  from  his  seat,  his  eyes 
streaming  with  tears;  the  venerable  peer  implored  that  the  proceedings 
might  not  affect  the  inheritance  of  himself  or  his  children,  and  after 


admitting  the  justice  of  the  sentence,  and  deploring  the  conduct  of  his 
son,  the  unhappy  father  was  consoled  by  his  sovereign,  who  deigned  to 
assure  him  thai  neither  his  interests  nor  those  of  his  children  then  living 
should  suffer  from  it,  for  that  he  had  always  considered,  and  still  deemed 
him  a  loyal  knight.'' 

Such  was  Sir  Richard  Scrope  at  the  close  of  his  long  career,  in  his 
seventy-third  year.  Such  was  the  man  backed  by  ability,  wealth,  station, 
warlike  and  civil  repute,  powerful  partizans,  royal  friends  and  kingly  fa- 
vour, with  whom,  in  the  ripe  maturity  of  his  life,  Sir  Robert  Grosvenor, 
head  of  a  family  little  at  that  period  known  out  of  his  own  country,  had 
the  hardihood  to  contend  in  a  cause  of  arms,  where  the  chief  judge  was 
his  antagonist's  friend.  Could  the  issue  be  doubtful  ? 

(To  be  continued}. 




NECKEN  han  gangar  pa  snohvitan  sand  ; 

Vaker  upp  alia  redlige  drangar  ! — 
Sa  skapar  han  sig  till  en  valdiger  man. 

De  unga  hafva  sofvit  tiden  allt  for  Idnge. 

Och  Nccken  han  gangar  sig  till  skraddaregard, 
Der  later  han  gora  sig  den  Kladningen  bla. 

Sa  gangar  han  sig  allt  upp  under  6, 
Der  dansar  sa  mangen  utvalder  mo. 

Necken  han  trader  i  dansen  in, 

De  Jungfruer  rodna  och  blekna  pa  kind. 

Och  Necken  han  drager  det  roda  gullband, 
Det  faller  sa  val  uti  Jungfruen's  hand. 
Och  hb'r  du,  skon  Jungfru,  havad  jag  saga  ma ; 
Om  sondag  sku'vi  motas,  allt  uppa  Kyrkogard. 

Och  Jungfrun  hon  skulle  till  Kyrkan  fara, 
Och  Hallfast  han  skulle  hennes  Koresven  vara. 

Tommar  af  silke  och  selen  af  gull ; 
Kara  du  Hallfast,  du  Kor  int'  omkull ! 

Jungfrun  hon  aker  till  Kyrkan  fram, 
Och  der  moter  hon  sin  fasteman. 

Necken  han  rider  till  Kyrkan  fram, 
Han  haktar  sitt  betsel  pa  Kyrkokam. 

Necken  han  ganger  i  Kyrkan  in, 

Och  radios  ar  Jungfrun  for  fasteman  sin. 

Priisten  han  framfor  altaret  staor  ; 
Hvad  ar-fb'r  en  man,  pa  gangen  der  star  ? 
Havr  ar  du  fodder  och  hvar  ar  du  buren  ? 
Eller  hvar  hafver  du  dina  klader  val  skuren, 



I  hafvet,  der  iir  jag  bad  fodder  och  buren, 
Och  der  hafver  jag  mina  kofklader  skuren. 

Och  folket  gich  ut  och  skyndale  hem, 

Och  bruden  hon  stod  qvar  med  Brudgummen  an. 

Och  hvar  liar  du  Fader  och  hvar  har  du  Moder  ? 
Och  hvar  har  du  vanner  och  hvar  har  du  frander  ? 

Min  Fader  och  Moder  a'  boljorna  bla  ; 
Mina  vanner  och  frander  a'  stickor  och  stra. 

Och  det  ar  sa  svart  uti  hafvet  att  bo ; 
Der  aro  sa  manga,  som  ofver  oss  ro. 

Ja,  det  ar  sa  svart  uti  hafvet  att  vara  ; 
Der  aro  sa  manga  som  ofver  oss  fara. 

Necken  tog  Jungfrun  i  fager  gulan  lock, 
Sa  band  han  henne  vid  sin  sadelaknapp. 

Och  Jungfrun  hon  ropa'  sa  sorgeligt  rop, 
Det  hordes  sa  vida  till  Konungens  gard. 

De  sokte  den  Jungfrun  allt  ofver  bro ; 
Der  funno  de  hennes  gullspanda  skor. 

De  sokte  den  Jungfrun  allt  upp  efter  fors, 
Der  funno  de  hennes  linosa  kropp. 


The  Necken  he  walks  on  the  sea- strand  so  white, 

Wake  ye  my  merrie  men  up  from  sleep, 
And  he  changes  his  shape  to  a  gallant  young  knight, 

Too  long  has  the  youth  lain  in  slumber  deep. 

And  into  the  tailor's  house  quickly  he  hies, 
And  dons  him  in  robes  of  the  finest  blue  dyes. 

Then  the  Necken  goes  off  to  the  far  Isle  away, 
Where  the  lovely  young  villagers  dance  all  the  day. 

He  joins  in  the  dance,  and  so  gracefully  moves, 
Every  maid  as  she  looks  on  him  feels  that  she  loves. 

And  the  Necken  he  takes  up  the  shining  gold  band, 
It  becometh  so  sweetly  the  fair  maiden's  hand. 

And  hearken,  fair  maid,  what  I  say  unto  thee, 

In  the  churchyard,  next  Sunday,  our  meeting  shall  be. 

Away  to  the  church  doth  the  fair  maiden  ride, 
And  Hailfast  the  driver  he  sat  by  her  side. 

The  bridle  was  silk,  and  the  shafts  were  of  gold, 
And  Hailfast  the  driver  was  skilful  and  bold. 

The  Maid  in  her  white  wedding  garment  is  cloth'd, 
And  she  enters  the  church,  and  she  meets  her  betroth'd. 

The  Necken  he  rode  to  the  church  tower  so  grey, 
And  he  fastened  his  steed  to  the  ancient  church  key. 


And  the  Necken  passed  down  thro'  the  old  pillar'd  aisles 
And  the  fair  maiden  met  him  with  tears  and  with  smiles. 

The  priest  at  the  altar  with  smooth  solemn  brow 

Marks  the  air  of  the  stranger — Sir  Knight  who  art  thou  ? 

Where  wert  thou  begotten  and  where  wert  thou  born  ? 
Where  got  thou  the  robes  that  thy  person  adorn  ? 

And  I  was  begotten  and  born,  quoth  he, 

And  mine,  only  mine,  are  the  robes  that  you  see. 

Away  to  their  homes  are  the  villagers  gone, 
The  Bride  with  the  Bridegroom  remaineth  alone. 

Thy  father,  thy  mother,  thy  brother,  thy  friends  ? 
Where  be  they  ? — I  fear  what  thy  silence  portends. 

My  father  and  mother  the  blue  billows  be, 

And  my  friends  are  the  wild  sedge  that  grows  by  the  sea. 

O  God  !  must  I  dwell  in  the  wild  waves  below 
While  the  blithe- hearted  fisherman  over  us  row  ? 

Yes — yes — in  the  billows  so  cold  and  so  pale, 
While  the  seamen  so  joyously  over  us  sail. 

The  Necken  took  hold  of  her  sweet  yellow  hair, 
He  bound  to  his  saddle  the  maiden  so  fair. 

And  loudly  she  shrieked,  and  the  heart-broken  wail 
Was  born  o'er  the  land  on  the  wings  of  the  gale. 

They  sought  the  fair  maid  in  the  highways  all  round, 
And  nought  but  her  gold-buckled  slippers  they  found. 

They  sought  the  fair  maid  in  the  waterfalls  dark — 
They  found  her — a  corpse,  pallid,  withered,  and  stark. 


Och  Jungfrun  hon  gangar  i  rosendelund, 
Der  fick  hon  se  standande  sa  fager  en  Lind. 

Den  allri'n'gm  sorg  fordrefva  kunde. 

"  Har  standar  du  Lind  sa  fager  du  aj, 
Med  forgyllande  blader,  som  du  ocksa  bar.'' 

"  Det  ar  val  inte  at  att  du  sa  rosar  mig, 
For  lyckan  ar  battre  for  dig  an  for  mig. 

I  morgon  komma  friare,  som  fria  till  dig  ; 

Och  da  komma  timmerman,  som  skada  uppa  mig. 

Sa  hugga  de  mig  till  en  Altarespang, 

Der  mangen  grofver  syndare  skall  hafva  sin  gang. 

"  Sa  hugga  de  mig  till  ett  Altaretia, 

Des  mangen  grofver  syndare  skall  falla  pa  kn'a." 

"  Och  ka'ra  du  Lind,  emedan  du  kan  tala  ; 
Aer  ingen  i  verlden  till  som  dig  kan  hugsvala  ? 

Och  ingen  ar  i  verlden  som  mig  kan  hugsvala  j 
Forutan  Kung  Magnus,  den  jag  aldrig  med  far  tala. 


Och  Jungfrun  hon  satte  sig  neder  att  skrifva  ; 
Ack  !  hade  jag  nagon,  sorn  det  brefvet  kunde  fora. 

Shax  kom  det  der  fram  en  falk  sa  gra ; 

Jag  for  val  det  bref  till  Kung  Magnus's  gard 

Och  Falken  tog  brefvet  allt  i  sina  klor, 

Sa  latt  flyger  han  dit  Kung  Magnus  han  bor. 

Kung  Magnus  tog  brefvet  ur  Falkens  klor, 
Sa  hateliz  liiste  han  hvart  endaste  ord. 

,Kung  Magnus  han  talte  till  tjenarena  sa, 
J  sadlen  mig  strax  upp  gangaren  gra. 

J  sadlen  mig  strax  upp  rinnaren  rod, 

For  jag  skall  rid'  och  fralsa  min  stackers  fastemo. 

Kung  Magnus  han  satte  sig  pa  rinnaren  rod, 
Sa  red  han  litet  fortare  an  falken  han  flog. 

Kung  Magnus  foil  nod  allt  uppa  sina  kna, 
Sa  Kystte  han  den  Jungfrun  i  Lindetr'ad. 

Kung  Magnus  foil  ned  f6r  Jungfruns  fot, 
Sa  kyoste  han  henne  pa  Linderot. 

Kung  Magnus  tog  Linden  allt  uti  sin  famn, 
Sa  fager  en  Jungfrun  af  henne  upprann. 

Kung  Magnus  lyfte  Jungfrun  pa  gangaren  gra, 
Sao  red  han  med  henne  allt  uppa  sin  gard. 
Kung  Magnus  han  satte  den  Jungfrun  pa  sitt  knii, 
Och  guf'na  gullkronan  och  fastningen  med. 


And  the  maiden  she  walks  where  the  red  roses  blow, 
There  sees  she  a  Linden  most  beauteously  grow. 

Oh  !  there's  no  one  to  cure  me  of  sadness. 

Here  standest  thou,  Linden  tree,  blooming  and  fair, 

With  the  gold-gleaming  leaves  which  thy  bright  branches  bear. 

Oh !  there's,  8fC. 

Ah  !  maiden,  sweet  maiden,  why  praise  ye  me  so  ? 
For  thou  art  most  happy,  while  I  am  in  woe. 

To-morrow  come  suitors  to  claim  thy  white  hand ; 
To-morrow  come  woodmen  my  life  to  demand. 

They  will  hew  me  to  pieces  to  make  them  a  stairs 
To  the  altar,  where  sinners  gasp  sorrowful  prayers. 

They  will  hew  me  to  pieces  to  make  them  a  shrine, 
Where  penitents  kneeling  seek  mercy  divine. 

O  Linden,  dear  Linden,  and  since  thou  canst  speak, 

Is  there  none  on  this  broad  earth  whose  aid  thou  wouldst  seek  ? 

Oh  !  there's  none  on  this  broad  earth  whose  aid  I  could  seek 
But  King  Magnus,  with  whom  I  can  ne'er  hope  to  speak. 

And  the  maiden  sat  down,  and  a  letter  she  penn'd, — 
Oh  !  had  I  to  bear  it  some  trustworthy  friend ! 

THE    EMIGRANT.  157 

When  straight  there  came  flying  a  falcon  so  grey  ;— 
To  the  halls  of  King  Magnus  I'll  bear  it  to-day. 

Then  away  with  the  letter  the  grey  falcon  flew, 
Till  the  halls  of  King  Magnus  rose  up  on  his  view. 

The  King  took  the  letter  and  hastily  read, 
And  his  cheeks  grew  as  pale  and  as  cold  as  the  dead. 
Then  out  spake  King  Magnus — Up,  saddle  my  steed 
With  the  grey  flowing  mane  and  the  fetlocks  of  speed. 
The  red-coated  courser,  quick,  saddle  for  me, 
Away,  and  away,  till  my  true  love  is  free. 
King  Magnus  leaped  up  on  his  courser  so  red, 
And  fleeter  by  far  than  the  falcon  he  fled. 

King  Magnus  he  came,  and  he  fell  on  his  knee, 
And  kiss'd  the  young  maid  in  the  fair  linden  tree. 
King  Magnus  knelt  down  at  the  light  maiden's  foot, 
And  kiss'd  her  again  in  the  linden  tree's  root. 

Then  the  King  to  his  heart  the  fair  linden  tree  press'd, 
And  a  Virgin  most  beautiful  blush' d  on  his  breast. 
The  King  rais'd  the  Virgin  upon  his  grey  steed, 
And  bore  her  away  to  his  castle  with  speed. 

And  she  sat  in  her  state  on  the  knee  of  the  King, 
With  a  crown  of  red  gold,  and  a  gold  wedding  ring. 


One  evening  from  a  rocky  height 

I  watched  the  sunbeams'  parting  light 

Lingering  o'er  the  distant  sea, 

Which  then  lay  slumb'ring  tranquilly  ; 

So  calm  the  hour  that  on,  her  breast 

The  breeze  had  sigh'd  itself1  to  rest, 

And  all  around  was  stillness,  save 

The  murm'ring  of  the  ebbing  wave. 

Brightly  had  shone  the  summer's  day  $ 

In  golden  clouds  it  passed  away  ; 

When  evening  mild,  with  sombre  hue, 

Shed  on  the  scene  soft  tears  of  dew, 

In  pity  to  the  lovely  flowers 

Which  droop'd  beneath  those  sultry  hours. 

Soon  night's  fair  queen  rose  o'er  the  ma;n 

Attended  by  her  starry  train, 

A  distant  sail  then  caught  my  sight  ; 

Its  outline  in  the  pale  moonlight 

158  THE    EMIGRANT. 

Reveal'd  its  purpos'd  destiny  ; 

Twas  bound  to  plough  a  foreign  sea. 

Strolling  that  morning  on  the  strand, 

I  saw  a  boat  put  off  the  land 

To  join  that  vessel  in  the  bay 

Which  for  some  time  at  anchor  lay, 

Crowded  with  emigrants.    To  sail, 

She  waited  but  a  favoring  gale  ; 

And  while  I  gaz'd  upon  its  form, 

Soon  doom'd  perhaps  to  brave  the  storm, 

I  thought  of  that  poor  boy  on  deck, 

Who  clung  around  his  mother's  neck 

So  tenderly,  at  morning  tide 

While  parting  from  the  vessel's  side  : 

She  press'd  him  to  her  widow'd  breast 

Where  he  had  often  lull'd  to  rest. 

She  held  him  in  a  parting  fold 

To  her  sad  heart,  whose  pulse  was  cold, 

For  he  who  warm'd  it  with  his  smile 

Might  ne'er  again  its  care  beguile. 

She  wildly  kissed  his  youthful  brow 

And  call'd  on  Heav'n  by  pray'r  and  vow 

To  take  her  William  to  its  care 

And  guard  him  safe  from  every  snare. 

The  boat  appear'd  all  ready  mann'd, 

Its  oars  were  striking  off  the  land, 

The  youth  upon  his  mother  cast 

One  parting  look  ;  it  was  his  last. 

A  moment,  and  the  bark  was  gone, 

The  wretched  parent  stood  alone, 

'Tis  thus  that  many  an  Irish  heart 

Is  doom'd  with  all  it  loves  to  part — 

To  leave  that  darling  land  of  care, 

Or  stay  and  break,  and  perish  there. 

M.  D. 



His  lordship  is  second  surviving  son  of  the  present  Duke  of  Portland.  His 
mother  Henrietta,  eldest  daughter  of  the  well-known  General  Scott,  of 
Balcomie,  in  Fifeshire,  derived,  in  the  female  line,  from  the  families  of  the 
famous  Scottish  worthies,  Balliol  and  Wallace.  General  Scott  was  of 
very  eccentric  notions.  By  his  will,  he  prohibited  any  one  of  his  daughters 
from  marrying  a  nobleman ;  and  provided  that  disobedience  on  this  point 
should  entail  a  forfeiture  of  the  testamentary  bequest.  Despite,  however, 
of  this  injunction,  the  three  ladies,  all  became  in  the  sequel  peeresses,  and 
by  an  arrangement  amongst  themselves  preserved  their  fortunes  :  the 
eldest,  who  succeeded  to  the  chief  portion  of  her  father's  great  wealth,  mar- 
ried the  Duke  of  Portland ;  the  second,  became  the  wife  of  Francis,  Lord 
Doune  ;  and  the  third,  the  widow  of  the  Right  Hon.  George  Canning,  was 
elevated  to  the  peerage  in  her  own  right,  at  the  lamented  decease  of  her  dis- 
tinguished husband.  Under  the  guidance  of  that  illustrious  statesman,  who 
was  thus  his  uncle  by  marriage,  Lord  George  Bentinck  first  entered  on  public 
life ;  but  he  did  not  long  continue  at  that  period  to  devote  himself  to  political 
pursuits.  The  attractions  of  the  turf  engrossed  his  attention,  and  it  was 
not  until  the  great  struggle  that  preceded  the  abolition  of  the  corn  laws  that 
he  gained  the  leading  position  he  now  holds  in  the  parliamentary  arena. 

Lord  George  Bentinck  was  born  27th  Feb.  1802,  and  is  unmarried.  He 
has  sat  in  the  House  of  Commons  as  member  for  Lynn  Regis,  in  the  represen- 
tation of  which  borough  he  succeeded  his  uncle,  Lord  William  Bentinck. 
The  ducal  house  of  which  his  lordship  is  a  scion,  was  founded  by  William 
Bentinck,  a  Dutch  noble,  who  enjoyed  in  an  eminent  degree  the  favour  of 
King  William  III.,  and  was  created  by  his  majesty  Earl  of  Portland  in  1689. 
His  lordship  had  the  command  of  the  Dutch  regiment  of  Horse  Guards,  and 
took  a  distinguished  part,  as  Lieutenant- General,  at  the  battle  of  Boyne. 
He  was  subsequently  invested  with  the  Order  of  the  Garter,  and  at  length 
died  in  1709,  leaving  a  large  family:  the  eldest  son  Henry,  second  Earl, 
obtained  in  1716,  the  highest  grade  in  the  peerage,  being  elevated  to  the 
Dukedom  of  Portland  and  Marquesate  of  Tichfield.  His  Grace  died  in 
Jamaica,  of  which  he  was  Captain- General  and  Governor,  4th  July  1726, 
leaving,  with  other  issue,  a  son  and  successor,  WILLIAM  second  Duke,  K.G., 
who  added  considerably  to  his  fortune  and  influence,  by  marrying  the  Lady 
Margaret  Cavendish  Harley,  only  daughter  and  heir  of  Edward,  second  £arl 
of  Oxford,  by  Lady  Henrietta  Cavendish  Holies,  his  wife,  only  daughter 
and  heir  of  John,  first  Duke  of  Newcastle.  The  paternal  grandfather  of  this 
richly  portioned  heiress,  Robert  Harley,  was  the  illustrious  minister  of  the 
reign  of  Queen  Anne,  and  her  maternal  grandfather,  the  Duke  of  Newcastle 
had  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  the  richest  subjects  in  the  kingdom. 
From  him  has  descended  to  the  present  Duke  of  Portland  Welbeck  Abbey, 
Notts,  together  with  the  valuable  property  of  Cavendish  Square,  Holies 
Street,  and  its  neighbourhood,  so  productive  at  the  present  day. 

The  son  and  heir  of  the  marriage  of  the  second  Duke  of  Portland  with 
the  heiress  of  the  Harleys,  the  Holies'  and  the  Cavendishes,  was  William- 
Henry,  third  Duke,  K.G.,  who  filled  the  dignified  office  of  Viceroy  of  Ire- 


land  in  1782,  and  was  twice  Prime  Minister.  He  wedded  Dorothy,  only 
daughter  of  William,  fourth  Duke  of  Devonshire,  and  dying  in  1809,  was 
succeeded  by  his  eldest  son,  William- Henry  Cavendish,  the  present  chief  of 
the  ducal  house  of  Portland. 


OUR  obituary  of  this  month  records  the  death  of  the  O'CoNoa  DON,  a 
gentleman  universally  esteemed  and  beloved,  in  whom  vested  the  represen- 
tation of  the  ancient  monarchs  of  Ireland.  From  the  remotest  period,  his 
ancestors  were  Kings  of  Connaught,  and  in  the  twelfth  century  they  became 
Sovereigns  of  all  Ireland.  Tordhellach  O'Conor,  who  ascended  the  throne 
in  1 136,  reigned  twenty  years,  and  died  in  1156,  leaving  two  sons,  RODE- 
RICK the  last  monarch  of  Ireland,  and  CATHAL  Croibh-dearg,  or  Cathal,  of 
the  Red  Hand.  Roderick's  history  is  well  known.  In  1175,  his  Chancellor 
Lawrence  O'Toole  signed  the  Treaty  of  Windsor  with  King  Henry  II.  of 
England,  wherein  Roderick  resigned  the  supreme  monarchy  but  reserved 
to  himself  Connaught  as  an  independent  kingdom.  The  treaty  may  be 
seen  in  Rymer's  Fcedera.  From  Roderick's  brother,  Cathal,  descended 
in  a  direct  line,  the  late  O'Conor  Don.  The  singular  title  of  "Don,"  so 
constantly  used  by  the  successive  chiefs  of  the  house,  is  variously  explained. 
Some  derive  it  from  Tirlagh  O'Conor,  living  temp.  Richard  II.,  who  was 
surnamed  Don,  or  the  dark,  while  others  carry  up  its  adoption  to  the  time  of 
the  invasion  of  Ireland,  under  Prince  Don,  the  son  of  Milesius.  Certain  it 
is  that  for  centuries,  it  has  been  the  invariable  designation  of  the  head  of  the 
O' Conors ;  and  was  home  as  such  by  the  late  O'Conor  Don.  Of  the 
princely  heritage  that  erst  belonged  to  his  royal  ancestors,  a  small  tract 
alone  remained.  Spoliation  and  persecution — the  result  of  loyalty  to  the 
king,  and  devotion  to  the  ancient  faith — gave  the  final  blow  to  the  power  of 
this  illustrious  house.  Major  Owen  O  Conor,  of  Belanagare,  governor  of 
Athlone  for  James  II.,  was  taken  prisoner  by  William  of  Orange,  and  con- 
fined in  the  Castle  of  Chester,  where  he  died  in  1692,  and  his  nephew  and 
eventual  heir  Denis  O'Conor  of  Belanagare,  was  involved  in  the  troubles  and 
misfortunes  which  seemed  at  that  period,  the  common  inheritance  of  all  who 
professed  the  Catholic  religion.  Suits  were  instituted  for  the  sequestration 
of  his  paternal  estates,  and  he  was  happy  to  preserve  a  portion  by  the  sacri- 
fice of  the  rest.  Though  thus  left  but  a  small  fragment  of  the  once  broad 
domains  of  his  forefathers — domains,  which  were  [guaranteed  by  several 
solemn  and  indisputable  treaties, — he  was  still  the  supporter  of  all,  whose 
virtues  or  distresses  had  a  claim  upon  his  bounty.  The  traditions  of  the 
country  attest  his  unostentatious  benevolence  and  hospitality,  and  the  effu- 
sions of  the  bards  record  the  virtues  of  his  character.  At  Belanagare,  it 
was  that  Carolan  composed  the  most  impassioned  of  his  melodies,  and  felt 
the  true  poetic  inspiration.  "  I  think,"  said  the  bard  on  one  occasion, 
"  that  when  I  am  among  the%  O'Conors,  the  harp  has  the  old  sound  in  it." 
Denis  O'Conor's  son  and  successor,  CHARLES  O'CONOR,  of  Belanagare,  a 
learned  antiquary,  early  devoted  Lis  attention  to  elucidating  the  history  of 
his  country,  and  unfolding  the  long  neglected  records  of  her  people  ;  and 
collected,  with  indefatigable  research  and  labour,  the  most  valuable  in- 
formation regarding  the  annals  and  antiquities  of  Ireland.  He  also  took  a 
prominent  place  amongst  those  who  first  struggled  for  Catholic  Emancipation. 
Of  his  grandsons,  the  eldest  OWEN  O'CONOR,  of  Belanagare,  succeeded  to 
the  title  of  Don  as  head  of  the  family  at  the  decease  of  his  kinsman  Alex- 


ander,  O' Conor  Don  in  1820;  and  the  second,  Charles  O'Conor,  D.D., 
chaplain  at  Stowe,  was  the  erudite  author  of  "  Rerum  Hibernicarum  Scrip- 
tores,"  "  Columbanus's  Letters,"  &c.  The  former,  Owen  O'Conor  Don, 
was  father  of  the  respected  gentleman,  whose  decease  has  given  rise  to  the 
foregoing  remarks. 


Oh  !  Charity  !  our  helpless  nature's  pride, 
Thou  friend  to  him  who  knows  no  friend  beside, 
Is  there  in  morning's  breath,  or  the  sweet  gale 
That  steals  o'er  the  tired  pilgrim  of  the  vale, 
Cheering  with  fragrance  fresh  his  weary  frame, 
Aught  like  the  incense  of  thy  holy  frame  ? 
Is  aught  in  all  the  beauties  that  adorn 
The  azure  heaven,  or  purple  lights  of  morn  ? 
Is  aught  so  fair  in  evening's  lingering  gleam, 
As  from  thine  eye  the  meek  and  pensive  beam 
That  falls  like  saddest  moonlight  on  the  hill 
And  distant  grove,  when  the  wide  world  is  still  ? 
Thine  are  the  ample  views,  that  unconfined 
Stretch  to  the  utmost  walks  of  human  kind  : 
Thine  is  the  Spirit,  that  with  widest  plan 
Brother  to  brother  binds,  and  man  to  man. 

Among  the  many  illustrious  families  of  which  our  nobility  is  composed, 
that  of  Digby  deserves  a  prominent  position.  In  the  reign  of  the  first  Charles, 
one  of  its  descendants,  the  renowned  Sir  Kenelm,  "the  ornament  of  Eng- 
land," rendered  the  name  famous  throughout  the  Christian  world,  and,  at 
all  times,  we  may  trace,  in  the  pages  of  history,  honourable  mention  of  this 
eminent  house.  Edward,  sixth  Lord  Digby,  to  whom  the  following  interest- 
ing narrative  refers,  was  son  of  the  Hon.  Edward  Digby  by  Charlotte,  his 
wife,  sister  of  Henry,  Lord  Holland,  (father  of  Charles  James  Fox),  and 
succeeded  to  the  peerage  at  the  decease  of  his  grandfather  in  1752,  being 
then  just  of  age.  The  excellence  of  his  disposition  and  the  kindness  of 
his  heart  won  for  him  universal  esteem  ;  and  few  events  were  more  deeply 
deplored  than  his  untimely  death.  Of  his  active  benevolence,  a  gentleman, 
who  enjoyed  his  lordship's  regard  and  friendship,  has  left  the  following 
anecdote  on  record  : — 

"Lord  Digby  came  often  to  Parliament  Street,  and  I  could  not  help 
remarking  a  a  singular  alteration  in  his  dress  and  demeanour,  which  took 
place  during  the  great  festivals.  At  Christmas  and  Easter  he  was  more 
than  usually  grave,  and  then  always  had  on  an  old  shabby  blue  coat.  I 
was  led,  as  well  as  many  others,  to  conclude  that  it  was  some  affair  of  the 
heart  which  caused  this  periodical  singularity.  Mr.  Fox,  his  uncle,  who  had 
great  curiosity,  wished  much  to  find  out  his  nephew's  motive  for  appearing 
at  times  in  this  manner,  as  in  general  he  was  esteemed  more  than  a  well 
dressed  man.  On  his  expressing  an  inclination  for  this  purpose,  Major 
Vaughan  and  another  gentleman  undertook  to  watch  his  lordship's  motions. 
They  accordingly  set  out ;  and  observing  him  to  go  to  St.  George's  Fields, 
they  followed  him  at  a  distance,  till  they  lost  sight  of  him  near  the  Marshal- 
sea  Prison.  Wondering  what  could  carry  a  person  of  his  lordship's  rank 
and  fortune  to  such  a  place,  they  enquired  of  the  turnkey  if  such  a  gentle- 
man (describing  Lord  D.)  had  not  entered  the  prison  ?  "  Yes,  Masters," 
exclaimed  the  fellow,  with  an  oath,  "  but  he  is  uot  a  man,  he  is  an  angel  ; 


for  he  comes  here  twice  a  year,  sometimes  oftener,  and  sets  a  number  of 
prisoners  free.  And  he  not  only  does  this,  but  he  gives  them  sufficient  to 
support  themselves  and  their  families  till  they  can  find  employment.  "  This," 
continued  the  man,  "  is  one  of  his  extraordinary  visits.  He  has  but  a  few 
to  take  out  to  day." — "  Do  you  know  who  the  gentleman  is  ?"  enquired  the 
major.  "  We  none  of  us  know  him  by  any  other  marks/'  replied  the  man, 
"  but  by  his  humanity  and  his  blue  coat." 

One  of  the  gentleman  could  not  resist  the  desire  of  making  some  further 
enquiries  relative  to  the  occurrence  from  which  he  reaped  so  much  satisfac- 
tion. The  next  time,  accordingly,  his  lordship  had  his  alms- giving  coat  on, 
he  asked  him  what  occasioned  his  wearing  that  singular  dress  ?  With  a 
smile  of  great  sweetness,  his  lordship  told  him  that  his  curiosity  should  soon 
be  gratified,  for  as  they  were  congenial  souls,  he  would  take  him  with  him 
when  he  next  visited  the  place  to  which  his  coat  was  adapted.  One  morning 
shortly  after,  his  lordship  accordingly  requested  the  gentleman  to  accompany 
him  on  a  visit  to  that  receptacle  of  misery  which  his  lordship  had  so  often 
explored,  to  the  consolation  of  its  inhabitants.  His  lordship  would  not 
uffer  his  companion  to  enter  the  gate,  lest  the  hideousness  of  the  place 
should  prove  disagreeable  to  him ;  but  he  ordered  the  coachman  to  drive  to 
the  George  Inn  in  the  Borough,  where  a  dinner  was  ordered  for  the  happy 
individuals  he  was  about  to  liberate.  Here  the  gentleman  had  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  nearly  thirty  persons  rescued  from  the  jaws  of  a  loathsome  prison, 
at  the  inclement  season  of  the  year,  being  in  the  midst  of  winter,  and  not 
only  released  from  their  confinement,  but  restored  to  their  families  and 
friends,  with  some  provision  from  his  lordship's  bounty  for  their  immediate 

Lord  Digby  went,  some  few  months  after  these  beneficent  acts,  to  visit  his 
estates  in  Ireland,  where  he  caught  a  putrid  fever,  of  which  he  died  in  the 
dawn  of  life,  November  30,  1757. 

Well  may  we  add  with  the  poet ; — 

O  ye,  who  list  to  Pleasure's  vacant  song, 
As  in  her  silken  train  ye  troop  along ; 
Who,  like  rank  cowards  from  affliction  fly, 
Or,  whilst  the  precious  hours  of  life  pass  by, 
Lie  slumbering  in  the  sun  ! — Awake,  arise — 
To  these  instructive  pictures  turn  your  eyes, 
The  awful  view  with  other  feelings  scan, 
And  learn  from  Digby  what  man  owes  to  man  ! 

His  Lordship  died  unmarried  and  was  succeeded  in  his  honour  and  estates 
jy  his  brother  Henry,  father  of  the  present  Earl  Digby. 


THIS  Veil,  said  to  be  that  with  which  the  unfortunate  Maiy  covered  her 
head  on  the  scaffold,  after  the  executioner — whether  from  awkwardness  or 
confusion  is  uncertain — had  wounded  the  unhappy  victim  in  the  shoulder 
by  a  false  blow  still  exists  ;  and  is  still,  we  believe,  in  the  possession  of  Sir 
John  Stuart  Hippisley,  Bart.,  whose  father,  Sir  John  Cox  Hippisley,  had  an 
engraving  made  from  it,  by  Matteo  Dioltavi,  in  Rome,  1818,  and  gave 
copies  to  his  friends. 

The  Veil  is  embroidered  with  gold  spangles  by  (as  it  is  said)  the  Queen's 
own  hand,  in  regular  rows,  crossing  each  other,  so  as  to  form  small  ^squares, 


and  edged  with  a  gold  border,  to  which  another  border  has  been  subsequently 
joined,  in  which  the  following  words  are  embroidered  in  letters  of  gold — 

"  Velum  Serenissimse  Marise,  Scotise  et  Gallise  Reginse  Martyris,  quo 
induebatur  dum  ab  Heretica  ad  mortem  injustissimam  condemnata  fuit : 
Anno  Sal.  MDLXXXVI.  a  nobilissima  matrona  Anglicana  diu  conservatum 
et  tandem,  donationis  ergo  Deo  et  Societati  Jesu  Consecratum." 

On  the  plate  there  is  an  inscription,  with  a  double  certificate  of  its  authen- 
ticity, which  states  that  this  Veil,  a  family  treasure  of  the  expelled  house  of 
Stuart,  was  finally  in  possession  of.the  last  male  representative  of  that  Royal 
House,  the  Cardinal  of  York,  who  preserved  it  for  many  years  in  his  private 
Chapel,  among  the  most  precious  relics,  and  at  his  death  bequeathed  it  to 
Sir  J.  C.  Hippisley,  together  with  a  valuable  Plutarch,  and  a  codex  with 
painted  (illuminated)  letters,  and  a  gold  coin  struck  in  Scotland  in  the  reign  of 
Queen  Mary  ;  and  it  was  especially  consecrated  by  Pope  Pius  VII.  in  his 
Palace  on  the  Quirinal,  April  29th,  1818. 

Sir  J.  C.  Hippisley  during  a  former  residence  at  Rome,  had  been  very  intimate 
with  the  Cardinal  of  York,  and  was  instrumental  in  obtaining  for  him,  when 
he  with  the  other  Cardinals  emigrated  to  Venice  in  1 798,  a  pension  of  £4,000 
a  year  from  the  Prince  of  Wales  (afterwards  George  the  Fourth) ;  but  for 
which,  the  fugitive  Cardinal,  all  whose  revenues  were  seized  by  the  French, 
would  have  been  exposed  to  the  greatest  distress.  The  Cardinal  desired  to 
requite  this  service  by  the  bequest  of  what  he  considered  so  valuable. 

According  to  a  note  on  the  plate,  the  Veil  is  eighty-nine  inches  long, 
(English)  and  forty-three  broad,  so  that  it  seems  to  have  been  rather  a  kind 
of  shawl  or  scarf  than  a  Veil.  If  we  remember  rightly,  Melville  in  his 
Memoirs,  which  Schiller  had  read,  speaks  of  a  handkerchief  belonging  to 
the  Queen,  which  she  gave  away  before  her  death,  and  Schiller  founds  upon 
this  anecdote  the  well-known  words  of  the  farewell  scene,  addressed  to 
Hannah  Kennedy. 

"  Accept  this  handkerchief  !  with  my  own  hand 
For  thee  I've  work'd  it  in  my  hours  of  sadness 
And  interwoven  with  my  scalding  tears  : 
With  this  thoul't  bind  my  eyes." 

Sir  John  S.  Hippisley  descends  from  John  Hippisley,  Esq.  of  Yattan, 
Recorder  of  Bristol  in  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  of  a  different  family,  we 
apprehend,  from  that  of  Camley,  from  which  spring  the  Hippisleys  of  Stone- 
Easton,  co.  Somerset,  the  Hippisleys  of  Lamborne,  Berks,  and  the  Hippis- 
leys of  Stanton,  Wilts.  ROBERT  HIPPISLEY  TRENCHARD,  ESQ.,  the  late 
representative  of  the  Stanton  branch,  married  twice :  by  his  first  wife  he 
had  a  son,  who  d.  s.p.  and  a  dau.  :  Ellen  m.  1st  to  John  Ashfordby,  Esq., 
and  2ndly  to  John  Long,  Esq.  of  Preshaw  :  and  by  his  second,  he  left  a 
son,  Gustavus  Mathias  Hippisley,  Esq.,  who  m.  Ellen,  dau.  of  Thomas 
Fitzgerald,  Knight  of  Glin,  and  died  in  1831,  leaving  issue,  1st,  Gustavus 
Alexander  Butler  Hippisley ;  2nd,  Robert  Fitzgerald  Hippisley,  Lieut.  R.N. 
d.  unm.  ;  3rd,  Charles  James  Hippisley,  Lieut.  R.N.  ;  4th,  Augustus  John 
Hippisley;  1st,  Ellen  Georgiana  :  and  2nd,  Jane  Augusta,  m.  to  W.J.  Richard- 
son, Esq. 


JENNY  LIND  continues  her  career  of  unparalleled  success  at  Her  Majesty's 
Theatre,  and  of  course  the  house  is  still  crowded  night  after  night  to  suffo- 
cation ;  thus,  too,  we  think  it  would  be,  were  the  enchantress  to  remain  for 
months  and  months  to  come.  So  powerful  has  been  the  attraction  that  no 
other  place  of  dramatic  entertainment  in  London  has  been  able  to  make  way 
except  the  French  Theatre,  which  the  genius  of  Rachel  has  now  rendered 
great  in  public  favour.  This  proves  how  true  it  is  that  talent — real,  indispu- 
table, surpassing  talent,  of  whatever  character  or  clime,  is  sure  to  reign  tri- 
umphant over  the  mind  of  this  mighty  metropolis.  We  shall  speak  further 
of  Rachel  immediately ;  we  now  return  to  Jenny  Lind.  Her  newest  and 
latest  wonder  has  been  her  performance  in  Verdi's  opera  composed  expressly 
for  her  Majesty's  Theatre,  entitled  "  I  Masnadieri."  This  lyric  production 
was  represented  for  the  first  time  on  the  evening  of  Thursday  the  22nd 
July,  and  met  with  complete  success.  Verdi  himself  conducted  the  orches- 
tra, and  his  presence  was  hailed  with  rapturous  applause. 

"  I  Masnadieri,"  as  its  title  infers,  is  a  brigand  story,  and  is  founded  on 
the  Robbers  of  Schiller,  the  plot  of  which,  the  Italian  libretto  closely  and 
cleverly  follows.  The  cast  of  the  principal  characters  is  this  : 

Carlo  Moor Gardoni. 

Francesco  Moor Coletti. 

Massimiliano  Moor Lablache. 

Moser Bouche. 

Arminio Corelli. 

Amalia Jenny  Lind. 

The  Times  has  given  so  remarkably  clear  and  curiously  elaborate  an  ac- 
count of  the  course  of  the  incidents  and  music  in  "I  Masnadieri'  that  we 
cannot  do  better  than  extract  it  here. 

"  The  opera"  says  the  critic  of  the  Times  "  commences  with  an  instru- 
mental prelude  in  which  there  is  a  violoncello  solo.  The  curtain  rises  and 
discovers  Carlo  in  a  tavern  on  the  confines  of  Saxony.  He  is  reading  Plu- 
tarch, and  expresses  his  disgust  at  the  degeneracy  of  his  own  age,  in  a  re- 
citative imitated  from  the  same  situation  in  Schiller.  At  this  time  he  has 
written  home  for  his  father's  forgiveness,  and  expresses  in  a  tender  cavatina 
("  Oh  mio  Castel  Paterno'')  accompanied  by  the  wind  instruments,  the  joy 
he  anticipates  from  revisiting  the  place  of  his  birth.  The  troop  of  his  com- 
rades enter  with  a  letter,  which  contains  a  refusal  of  the  pardon.  On  be- 
holding Carlo's  despair,  they  agree  to  form  a  troop  of  robbers  and  elect  him 
for  their  leader.  The  scene  terminates  with  Carlo's  caballetta,  in  which  he 
vents  his  rage  and  despair,  and  is  joined  by  the  chorus.  We  are  now  re- 
moved to  the  castle  of  the  Moor  family,  and  find  Francesco,  the  younger 
son,  expressing  his  impatience  at  his  father's  long  life  now  he  has  got  rid  of 
his  elder  brother.  He  sings  an  aria  with  violoncello  accompaniments,  fol- 
lowed by  a  spirited  cabaletta,  after  he  has  plotted  with  Arminio  (Italian  for 
"  Herman,")  that  the  latter  shall  disguise  himself  as  a  soldier,  and  make 
a  false  statement  of  Carlo's  death.  The  chamber  of  the  old  Count  Massi- 
miliano Moor  is  then  discovered.  He  is  sleeping,  and  his  niece  Amalia,  the 
betrothed  of  Carlo,  is  watching.  After  a  prelude  of  flute,  oboe,  and  clari- 
onet and  a  recitative  accompanied  by  these  instruments,  comes  a  light  cava  • 

THE    OPERA.  165 

tina  by  Amalia,  "  Lo  aguardo  avea,"  the  words  of  which  are  taken  from 
Schiller's  Schon  ure  Engel.  This  is  followed  by  a  duet  between  Amalia  and 
the  older  Moor  ;  and  the  act  terminates  with  a  quartet,  consequent  upon  the 
entrance  of  Francesco  and  Arminio  with  the  news  of  Carlo's  death.  The  parts 
taken  by  the  several  personages  indicate  their  various  characters  ;  and  the 
orchestral  accompaniments  are  so  distributed  as  to  illustrate  the  different 
passions.  The  act  drops  upon  the  apparent  death  of  the  count,  who  is  over- 
come with  grief  at  the  melancholy  news.  These  incidents  in  the  castle  be- 
long to  Schiller's  act. 

"  The  opening  portion  of  the  second  act  of  the  opera  is  taken  from  Schil- 
ler's third,  with  considerable  alteration.  The  first  scene  represents  an  en- 
closure near  the  castle  chapel,  where  Amalia  approaches  the  tomb  of  old 
Moor.  A  chorus  behind  the  door  indicates  the  joy  of  Francesco  on  suc- 
ceeding to  his  father's  estate,  while  Amalia,  on  the  stage  sings  an  aria,  the 
adagio  of  which  is  accompanied  by  the  harp  solo,  and  is  followed  by  a  bril- 
liant cabaletta,  introduced  by  the  news,  brought  by  Arminio,  that  Carlo  still 
lives.  Then  comes  the  offer  of  love  by  Francesco,  and  his  rejection  of 
Amelia,  which  forms  the  subject  of  a  duet.  A  scene  in  the  forest  follows. 
It  opens  with  the  incidents  connected  with  the  rescue  of  Rolla,  one  of  the 
band,  and  the  destruction  of  Prague,  all  this  part  of  the  action  being  car- 
ried on  by  the  chorus.  A  romanza,  by  Carlo,  in  which  he  sets  forth  his 
melancholy  condition,  comes  in  relief  after  the  general  excitement,  and  the 
act  terminates  with  a  stretta,  consequent  upon  the  arrival  of  the  soldiers  who 
have  surrounded  the  band.  Several  incidents  of  the  original  play  are  here 
packed  closely  together. 

"  The  third  act  likewise  falls  into  two  portions.  First,  we  have  the  inter- 
view between  Carlo  and  Amalia  in  the  forest  adjoining  the  castle,  which 
gives  occasion  for  a  duet.  Then  we  have  the  interior  of  the  forest,  with  a 
robber  chorus,  founded  on  the  celebrated  Stehlen,  morden,  which  once  set  all 
the  German  students  into  a  blaze  of  fanaticism.  The  act  ends  with  the 
rescue  by  the  robbers  of  the  old  Moor,  who,  though  supposed  dead,  is  still 
living,  having  been  imprisoned  and  concealed  by  Francesco.  In  the  finale, 
the  robbers  swear  that  they  will  avenge  the  wrongs  of  their  chiefs  father. 
The  theme  is  proposed  by  Carlo,  and  every  phrase  is  repeated  by  the  chorus. 
This  subject,  which  is  first  in  the  minor,  goes  with  a  crescendo  into  the 
major,  accompanied  by  the  whole  force  of  the  orchestra. 

"  The  fourth  act  opens  with  the  terror  of  the  conscience- stricken  Fran- 
cesco after  his  horrible  dream.  He  has  a  descriptive  aria,  and  on  the  en- 
trance of  the  pastor  comes  a  duet,  in  which  the  reverend  man  utters  his 
pious  menaces,  and  Francesco  prays,  while  the  voices  of  the  robbers  who 
are  attacking  the  castle  are  heard  behind  the  scenes.  The  pastor  is  in  uni- 
son with  the  trombones,  and  Francesco  is  accompanied  by  a  tremolo  on  the 
violins,  while  the  robbers  are  sustained  by  the  whole  mass  of  the  orchestra. 
A  duet  between  Carlo  and  his  father,  and  a  trio,  in  which  the  robbers  join, 
and  in  which  Amalia  dies  by  the  hand  of  Carlo,  terminates  the  opera." 

All  the  singers  engaged  exerted  themselves  with  creditable  energy  and 
evident  effect,  but,  as  might  be  expected,  Jenny  Lind  was  the  soul  of  this 
opera.  The  production  has  many  inherent  merits,  but  her  unsurpassable 
voice  at  once  achieved  its  prosperity. 

Taglioni  is  now  at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre,  and  still  maintains  her  pre- 
eminence as  the  divinity  of  dancing.  The  management  appears  determined 
to  terminate,  as  spiritedly  as  it  has  carried  on,  this  magnificent  season. 



MLLE.  RACHEL,  the  greatest  of  living  tragedians,  has,  as  usual  with  her, 
converted  the  St.  James's  Theatre,  previously  the  arena  of  vaudeville  and 
melodrama,  into  a  temple  of  the  strict  and  stately  classic  drama.  The 
works  of  Corneille,  Racine,  Voltaire,  and  their  modern  imitators  (a  suhject 
we  discussed  in  last  month's  Patrician),  now  become  as  familiar  with  the 
public,  as  those  of  cur  own  immortal  Shakespeare.  How  admirably  are 
those  classic  plays  of  France  represented  at  the  St.  James's  Theatre  !  The 
faults  they  undeniably  possess  sink  unnoticed  before  the  surpassing  genius 
of  Rachel.  Length  of  speechifying,  pomposity  of  diction,  and  want 
of  action  are  no  longer  perceived,  for,  the  enchantress  has  infused  her 
spirit  into  the  poetry ;  she  may  be  compared  to  the  sun  bursting,  in  its 
glory  upon  the  glassy  expanse  of  some  large  and  lordly  lake  :  the  aspect, 
though  grand,  was  chill  and  inanimate  before  :  it  is  now  on  fire,  dazzling 
and  sparkling  in  its  brilliancy.  Mile.  Rachel  has  appeared  in  Les  Horaces, 
Phe'dre,  Marie  Stuart,  Andromaque,  Virginie,  and  Tancrede.  The  style  and 
excellence  of  her  acting  as  the  heroine  in  the  four  first  of  these  tragedies 
is  now  well  known  :  in  the  last,  that  of  Tancrede  by  Voltaire,  her  per- 
formance is  a  novelty.  This  powerfully  written  play,  to  which  the  cele- 
brated opera  of  "  Tancredi"  owes  its  libretto,  is  one  of  the  chef-d'ceuvres 
of  its  author :  it  is  replete  with  beautiful  verse,  and  is  thoroughly  chival- 
rous in  sentiment  and  story.  Of  Tancrede,  M.  Schlegel,  no  friend  to 
Voltaire  and  the  classic  drama,  speaks  thus  in  his  celebrated  lectures  : 

"  Since  the  Cid  no  Frtnoh  tragedy  had  appeared,  of  which  the  plot  was 
founded  on  such  pure  motives  of  honour  and  love  without  any  ignoble  in- 
termixtures, and  so  completely  consecrated  to  the  exhibition  of  chivalrous 
sentiments,  as  Tancrede.  Amenaide,  though  honour  and  life  are  at  stake, 
disdains  to  exculpate  herself  by  a  declaration  which  would  endanger  her 
lover  ;  and  Tancred,  though  justified  in  esteeming  her  faithless,  defends  her 
in  single  combat,  and  seeks  in  despair  the  death  of  a  hero,  when  the  unfor- 
tunate error  clears  up.  So  far  the  piece  is  irreproachable,  and  deserving  of 
the  greatest  praise.  But  it  is  weakened  by  other  imperfections.  It  is  of 
greatdetriment  to  its  perspicuity,  that  we  cannot  at  the  very  first  hear  the 
letter  without  superscription,  which  occasions  all  the  embarrassment,  and 
that  it  is  not  sent  off  before  our  eyes.  The  political  disquisitions  in  the  first 
act  are  tedious  ;  Tancrede  appears  in  the  third  act  for  the  first  time,  and  he 
is  impatiently  expected  to  give  animation  to  the  scene.  The  furious  impre- 
cations of  Amenaide  at  the  conclusion  are  not  in  harmony  with  the  deep 
but  soft  emotion  with  which  we  are  overpowered  by  the  re-union  of  two 
lovers,  who  have  mistaken  each  other,  in  the  moment  of  their  separation  by 

The  imperfections  M.  Schlegel  speaks  of  appeared  not  in  the  representa- 
tion of  the  St.  James's  Theatre :  had  he  listened  to  Rachel,  he  would  no 
longer  have  complained  of  the  imprecating  language  at  the  conclusion.  The 
impassioned  eloquence  of  Rachel  gave  to  the  passage  exquisite  effect.  Her 
exclamation  "  Tancrede,  cher  Tancrede"  as  she  threw  herself  on  the  body 
of  the  beloved  and  expiring  knight  will  not  be  soon  forgotten  by  those  who 
heard  it.  Her  acting  throughout  the  whole  tragedy  was  admirable  :  Amenaide 
is  by  her  personified  to  the  life — the  high  born  damsel  of  an  age  of  chivalry, 

THK    THEATRES.  !(>/ 

haughty  and  ardent,  yet  gentle  and  benevolent,  unbending  in  her  notions  of 
honour,  and  boundless  in  her  affection.  At  the  beginning  of  the  play  where 
occurs  the  following  speech,  the  tone  of  Rachel  is  replete  with  force  and 
dignity  : 

Ah  !  combats  ces  terreurs, 
Et  ne  m'en  donne  point.     Souviens-toi  que  ma  m£ 

Nous  unit  Tun  et  1'autre  a  ses  derniers  momens, 

Que  Tancre'de  est  a  moi ;  qu'aucune  loi  contraire 

Ne  peut  rien  sur  nos  vceux,  et  sur  nos  sentimens. 

Helas  !  nous  regrettions  cette  ile  si  funeste, 

Dans  le  sien  de  la  gloire  et  des  murs  des  Ce'sars ; 

Vers  ces  champs  trop  aimes  qn'aujourd'hui  je  d£teste  ; 

Nous  tournions  tristement  nos  avides  regards. 

J'e'tais  loin  de  penser  que  le  sort  qui  m'obsede 

Me  gardat  pour  epoux  1'oppresseur  de  Tancrdde  ; 

Et  que  j'aurais  pour  dot  Texecrable  present 

Des  biens  qu'un  ravisseur  enl£ve  a  mon  amant. 

II  faut  1'instruire  au  moins  d'une  telle  injustice, 

Qu'il  apprenne  de  moi  sa  perte  et  mon  supplice, 

Qu'il  hate  son  retour  et  defende  ses  droits. 

Pour  venger  un  heros  je  fais  ce  que  je  dois. 

Ah  !  si  je  le  pouvais,  j'en  ferais  davantage. 

J'aime,  je  crains  un  p£re,  et  respecte  son  age  ; 

Mais  je  voudrais  armer  nos  peuples  souleves 

Centre  cet  Orbasson  qui  nous  a  captives. 

D'un  brave  chevalier  sa  conduite  est  indigne. 

Intdressd,  cruel,  il  pr6tend  a  1'honneur  ! 

II  croit  d'un  peuple  libre  e"tre  le  protecteur  ! 

11  ordonne  ma  honte,  et  mon  pere  la  sigrie  ! 

Et  je  dois  la  subir,  et  je  dois  me  livrer 

Au  maitre  imperieux  qui  pense  m'honorer  ! 

Helas  !  dans  Syracuse  on  hait  la  tyrannic. 

Mais  la  plus  execrable,  et  la  plus  impunie, 

Est  celle  qui  commande  et  la  haine  et  1'amour, 

Et  qui  veut  nous  forcer  de  changer  en  un  jour. 

Le  sorte  en  est  jete. 

When  she  hears  that  Tancred,  who  has  just  slain  in  single  combat  her  op- 
pressor, nevertheless  listens  to  the  accusations  against  her,  her  burst  of  in- 
dignation is  truly  startling  : 


Lui,  me  croire  coupable  ! 


Ah !  s'il  peut  s'abuser, 
Excusez  un  amant. 


Rien  ne  peut  1'excuser. .  . . 
Quand  1'univers  entier  m'accuserait  d'un  crime 
Sur  son  jugement  seul  un  grand  homme  appuye, 
A  1'univers  seduit  oppose  son  estime. 
II  aura  done  pour  moi  combattu  par  pitie  ! 
Cet  opprobre  est  affreux,  et  j'en  suis  accablee. 
Helas  !  mourant  pour  lui,  je  mourais  consolce ; 

VOL.    IV.    NO.  XVI.  O 

168  THE    THEATRES. 

Et  c'est  lui  qui  m 'outrage  et  m'ose  soupc.onner ! 

C'en  est  fait ;  je  ne  veux  jamais  lui  pardonner. 

Ses  bienfaits  sont  toujours  presens  k  ma  pense*e, 

Us  resteront  graves  dans  mon  ame  offensee  ; 

Mais  s'il  a  pu  me  croire  indigne  de  sa  foi, 

C'est  lui  qui  pour  jamais  est  indigne  de  moi. 

Ah  !  de  tous  mes  affronts  c'est  le  plus  grand  peut-etre. 
But  Tancred   is  brought  wounded  to  her  presence,  and  in  an  instant  her 
anger  is  forgotten.     Rachel  with  heart  rending  eloquence,   pours    forth  her 
whole  affection,  and  agony  :  the  very  soul  of  a  fond  and  despairing  woman 
is  in  her  voice  : 

Tancr^de,  cher  amant,  trop  cruel  et  trop  tendre, 

Dans  nos  derniers  instans,  he'las  !  peux-tu  m'entendre, 

Tes  yeux  appesantis,  peuvent-ils  me  revoir  ? 

He'las  !  reconnais-moi,  connais  mon  dese&poir. 

Dans  le  meme  tombeau  souffre  au  moins  ton  e*pouse, 

C'est-la  le  seul  honneur  dont  mon  ame  est  jalouse. 

Ce  nom  sacre  m'est  dti,  tu  me  1'avais  promis  ; 

Ne  sois  point  plus  cruel  que  tous  nos  ennemis. 

Honore  d'un  regard  ton  Spouse  fidele. .  . . 

(il  la  regarde). 
C'est  done  Ik  le  dernier  que  tu  jettes  sur  elle  !. .  . . 

De  ton  coeur  genereux  son  cceur  est-il  hai  ? 

Peux-tu  me  soup9onner  ? 

M.  de  Voltaire  nearly  ninety  years  ago  produced  the  tragedy  of  Tancrede 
with  the  approval  of  a  court  and  the  applause  of  a  people  who  would  tole- 
rate nought  but  the  classic  drama.  Little  could  he  have  dreamt  that,  in 
another  age,  in  a  foreign  land — the  very  territory  of  Shakespeare,  the  same 
play  would  fill  a  theatre  to  suffocation,  a  monarch  and  her  noblesse  forming 
a  portion  of  the  audience.  Such  a  result  is  owing  to  that  high  order  of 
genius,  the  attribute  of  Mile.  Rachel,  which  overcomes  all  prejudice  of  time 
or  country. 

Since  her  performance  in  Tancrede,  Mile.  Rachel  has  agreeably  surprised 
the  public  by  appearing  in  comedy  ;  her  success  has  been  equally  striking. 
She  played  Celemene  in  the  famous  Misanthrope  of  Moli£re,  a  master- piece 
of  wit  and  satire,  from  which  Sheridan  borrowed  a  great  deal  of  his  School 
for  Scandal.  Indeed,  Lady  Teazle  has,  in  some  points,  a  strong  resemblance 
to  the  coquette  Celemene. 

In  conclusion  we  would  observe  that  Mile.  Rachel  has  been  very  ably 
supported  by  the  other  performers  of  the  St.  James's  Theatre.  Raphael 
Felix,  Marius,  and  Mile.  Rabut  are  artists  fully  capable  of  appreciating, 
and  expressing  the  fine  verse  of  the  great  poets  of  France. 

*#*  Among  the  English  theatres  now  open,  the  Hayir.arket,  the  Princess's, 
and  the  Adelphi,  of  course  take  the  lead.  Mrs.  Nisbett  at  the  Haymarket, 
and  Madame  Vestris  and  Mathews  at  the  Princess's  are  as  excellent  as  ever. 
The  new  drama  of  "  Title  Deeds"  at  the  Adelphi  is  eminently  successful, 
and,  in  truth,  fully  deserves  to  be  so. 




THE  collection  of  ancient  masters  contributed  to  this  admirable  insti- 
tution, for  1847,  is  now  open,  and  the  display  proves  as  interesting,  and 
attractive  as  ever.  It  comprises  sacred  pictures,  historical  portraits,  and 
landscapes,  many  of  which  are  already  known  to  fame  throughout  the 
world,  and  may  be  looked  on  with  delight,  again  and  again,  for  ever. 
Rembrandt,  Rubens,  Vandyke,  Claude,  Cuyp,  Vander-Heyden,  Reynolds 
and  Lawrence  are  here  in  all  their  glory.  Such  paintings  need  no  com- 
ment or  description  :  they  must  be  viewed. 

HISTORICAL  PRIZE  PAINTINGS,  Chinese  Exhibition   Room,  Hyde   Park 
Corner,     THE  BAPTISM  OF  CHRIST. 

Two  years  ago  a  public  offer  was  made  in  the  following  terms  : — ONE 
THOUSAND  POUNDS  are  hereby  tendered  to  the  Artist  who  shall  produce  the 
best  OIL  PAINTING  of  the  BAPTISM  OF  CHRIST,  by  immersion  in  the  river 
Jordan,  to  illustrate  the  statements  made  by  the  Evangelists  : 

MATTHEW  iii.  13 — 17. 

"  Then  cometh  Jesus  from  Galilee  to  Jordan  unto  John,  to  be  baptised 
of  him.'' 

"  But  John  forbad  him,  saying,  I  have  need  to  be  baptised  of  thee,  and 
comest  thou  to  me  ?'' 

"And  Jesus  answering  said  unto  him,  Suffer  it  to  be  so  now :  for 
thus  it  becometh  us  to  fulfil  all  righteousness.  Then  he  suffered  him." 

"And  Jesus,  when  he  was  baptised  went  up  straightway  out  of  the 
water ;  and  lo  the  heavens  were  opened  unto  him,  and  he  saw  the  Spirit 
of  God  descending  like  a  dove,  and  lightning  upon  him :" 

"And  lo  a  voice  from  heaven,  saying,  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom 
I  am  well  pleased." 

MARK  i.  9 — 11. 

"And  it  came  to  pass  in  those  days,  that  Jesus  came  from  Nazareth  of 
Galilee,  and  was  baptised  of  John  in  Jordan." 

"And  straightway  coming  up  out  of  the  water,  he  saw  the  heavens 
opened,  and  the  Spirit  like  a  dove  descending  upon  him :" 

"  And  there  came  a  voice  from  heaven,  saying,  Thou  art  my  beloved 
Son  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased." 

LUKE  iii.  21  and  22. 

"Now  when  all  the  people  were  baptized,  it  came  to  pass,  that  Jesus 
also  being  baptized,  and  praying,  the  heaven  was  opened," 

"  And  the  Holy  Ghost  descended  in  a  bodily  shape  like  a  dove  upon 
him,  and  a  voice  came  from  heaven  which  said,  Thou  art  my  beloved 
Son  •  in  thee  I  am  well  pleased." 

o  2 


And  the  following  lines  from  the  1st  Book  of  Milton's  "  Paradise  Re- 
gained " 

' '  I  saw 

The  Prophet  do  him  reverence,  on  him  rising 
Out  of  the  water,  heaven  above  the  clouds 
Unfold  her  crystal  door,  &c. — Lines  79 — 85. 
Again,  Line  288 

• "As  I  rose  out  of  the  laving  stream." 

"  It  is  required  that  the  size  of  the  work  shall  be  not  less  than  12  feefc 
by  12,  nor  greater  than  15  feet  by  12,  and  the  two  principal  figures  shall 
be  at  least  as  large  as  life;  two  years  to  be  allowed  for  the  completion 
and  sending  in  of  the  pictures.  The  competition  to  be  open  to  artists 
of  all  nations,  and  the  £1000  to  be  paid  to  the  successful  Competitor, 
before  the  close  of  the  Exhibition." 

In  consequence  of  this  announcement,  several  paintings  were  for- 
warded to  the  Picture  Gallery,  (formerly  the  Chinese  Exhibition  Room) 
Hyde  Park  Corner,  which  was  fitted  up  at  great  expense  for  the  reception 
of  them. 

This  exhibition  which  is  now  closed,  was  visited  by  Prince  Albert,  the 
nobility,  and  numbers  of  the  public. 

We  now  refer  to  it,  wishing  to  call  attention  to  the  painting 
which  has  actually  won  the  prize.  Before  doing  so,  however,  we 
cannot  but  express  our  satisfaction  at  a  custom  which  has  recently 
sprung  up,  and  which  has  been  most  creditably  fostered  by  the  govern- 
ment ;  we  mean  the  plan  of  offering  prizes  of  large  value  to  the  com- 
petition of  artists.  Little  can  people  imagine  the  immense  good  that  is 
done  by  this.  Real  talent  is  often  modest  and  retiring  to  its  own  depres- 
sion and  ruin.  Unless  some  public  encouragement  be  given — some  im- 
petus employed,  it  may  never  come  forward.  The  mind  that  might 
conceive,  and  the  hand  that  might  perform  a  master  piece,  how  fre- 
quently,alas!  forwant  of  afield  to  dare  in, linger  and  perish  in  obscurity. 
The  simple  means  of  offering  prizes  will  put  an  end  to  this  evil  at  once. 
Honour  to  the  spirited  individuals  who  combine  to  do  so  !  Through 
their  aid,  genius  is  unbound,  and  like  the  freed  eagle,  straightways  soars 
into  those  lofty  regions,  the  home  of  its  aspirations. 

The  present  instance  exemplifies  what  we  say.  Many  inferior  paint- 
ings of  course  came  to  this  exhibition  at  Hyde  Park  Corner,  but  the  one 
that  achieved  the  premium  is  a  magnificent  production.  It  is  the  work 
of  Mr.  John  Wood.  This  gentleman  had  already  been  successful  in 
having  a  picture  of  his  chosen  as  the  altar  piece  at  Bermondsey  Church 
—  the  beautiful  painting  of  "  the  Ascension  "  now  there — and, no  doubt, 
encouraged  by  that,  he  put  his  whole  soul  in  the  present  struggle,  and 
\ve  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  he  has  done  a  work  of  surpassing  ex- 
cellence. The  boldness  of  design,  the  depth  and  richness  of  tone  and 
colour,  the  correctness  of  drawing  both  in  the  landscape  and  the  figures, 
and  the  majestic  aspect  of  the  whole,  mark  Mr.  Wood's  Baptism  of 
Christ  as  emanating  from  a  brain  profoundly  impressed  with  know- 
ledge and  appreciation  of  the  mighty  masters  of  the  mightiest  school — 
the  immortal  painters  of  Italy.  Much  of  the  manner  and  the  mind  of 
Raphael  Urban,  and  Sebastian  del  Piombo  hang  about  this  picture  of 
the  Baptism. 


To  convey  some  idea  of  the  grandeur  of  the  composition,  and  the 
extent  of  Mr.  Wood's  labours,  we  give  the  following  detailed  description 
of  his  painting. 

The  point  of  time  chosen  in  his  representation  of  Christ's  Baptism  is 
immediately  after  John  has  suffered  Jesus  to  be  immersed  by  him,  just 
as  he  is  uttering  the  words  of  administration.  The  Saviour  of  mankind 
is  represented  in  an  attitude  most  favourable  for  the  ceremony,  and  most 
according  with  the  practice  said  by  travellers  to  be  still  observed  at 
baptismal  rites  by  Oriental  Christians.  On  the  right  of  St.  John,  im- 
mediately behind  the  Saviour,  are  groups  representing  Joseph  of  Ari- 
mathea,  Nicodemus,  Peter  and  Andrew ;  and  the  more  youthful  figure 
of  St.  John  the  Evangelist.  On  the  left  of  St.  John  are  St.  Luke,  St. 
James  the  minor,  St.  Simeon,  St.  Matthew,  St.  Thomas,  St.  Jude  and 
Judas.  In  the  foreground  are  figures  of  persons  who  have  just  been 
baptized,  or  who  are  preparing  to  be  so  -,  and  in  the  background  is  seen 
a  crowd  of  spectators. 

This  painting  by  Mr.  Wood  is,  or  at  least  was  recently  to  be  seen  at  his 
residence  in  Charlotte  Street,  Fitzroy  Square.  We  sincerely  trust  that 
its  ultimate  public  destination — the  adornment  of  a  metropolitan  church, 
— may  be  effected  as  speedily  as  possible. 


>•  )£  ?mf    •oonnliHit.  s  .tj 




STORY  OF  THE  BATTLE  OF  WATERLOO.     By  the  REV.  G.  R.  GLEIG,  M.A. 

John  Murray,  Albemarle  Street,  1847. 

IT  was  a  happy  idea  of  this  well  known  and  able  writer,  to  throw  into 
one  small  volume  the  actual  events  of  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  so  as 
to  form  a  tale  apart  from  the  rest  of  history.  In  the  ordinary  perusal  of 
the  annals  of  the  time,  the  reader  becomes  generally  confused,  and 
fatigued  before  he  encounters  the  actual  details  —  necessarily  somewhat 
lengthy  —  of  the  fight  at  Waterloo  ;  nor  can  a  person  easily  himself 
detach  that  portion  of  the  political  narrative  which  relates  to  the  battle 
alone.  Here,  however,  the  difficulty  is  admirably  removed,  for,  in  one 
small  volume,  almost  at  one  view,  we  have  the  whole  memorable  event 
with  every  circumstance  attached  to  it  laid  plainly  before  us.  What 
really  adds  to  the  value  of  the  book  is  the  amazing  clearness  and  simpli- 
city of  its  style  :  a  mere  child  might  comprehend  it.  This  is  a  boon  of 
no  small  worth  to  civilians,  when  they  would  read  about  military  mat- 
ters, for,  in  general  this  portion  of  history,  if  at  all  elaborate,  becomes 
unintelligible  to  any  but  the  soldier.  Mr.  Gleig  has  indeed  made  a 
simple  story  of  that  legend  of  victory,  which  must  ring  in  the  ears,  and 
warm  the  blood  of  generation  after  generation,  until  England  is  no 

This  account  of  the  battle  is  so  well  knit  together  that  it  is  rather 
difficult  to  separate  any  portion  of  it.  The  following  extract  may 
however  be  read  with  interest  as  describing,  more  minutely  than  usual, 
Napoleon's  last  day  at  Elba,  prior  to  his  alighting  again,  with  the  pride 
and  rapidity  of  his  own  eagle,  upon  the  land  of  France. 

"  His  favourite  sister  Pauline,  bringing  other  ladies  in  her  train,  paid  him  a  visit. 
There  was  much  hospitality,  with  great  apparent  politeness,  at  the  palace  ;  and 
much  talk  was  held  concerning  the  improvements  which  he  meditated  both  in 
the  form  and  size  of  his  own  residence  and  in  the  harbour  and  town.  His 
guards  also  he  frequently  reviewed,  and  seemed  to  take  as  much  pleasure  in 
the  exercise  as  if  he  had  been  passing  a  whole  army  before  him.  So  passed  the 
beginning  of  February,  1815,  and  on  the  26th  a  grand  entertainment  was  given 
iit  the  palace.  Sir  Neil  Campbell,  the  English  resident  in  Elba,  was  not  there,  for 
he  had  gone  in  the  only  cruiser  that  observed  the  coast  to  Leghorn  :  but  the 
representatives  of  Austria  and  Russia  were  present,  and  marked  attention  was 
paid  to  them.  Napoleon  walked  through  the  several  halls,  saluting  his  guests; 
and  then,  leaving  the  ladies  to  do  the  rest,  went  about  his  own  business.  His 
guards,  to  the  number  of  1100,  had  been  directed  to  parade  near  the  quay  at 
three  in  the  afternoon.  They  stood  under  arms  till  half-past  four,  when  Napoleon 
joined  them  ;  and  he  and  they  were  all  on  board  of  ship  by  seven  o'clock  in  the 
same  evening.  For  this  facility  likewise  of  troubling  Europe,  the  Allies  had  left 
him,  that  he  had  retained  at  his  disposal,  a  flotilla  more  than  sufficient  to  transport 
his  troops  to  the  Continent  whenever  the  desire  of  doing  so  should  become  strong 
with  him. 

'*  How  he  bore  himself  during  that  brief  voyage  —  commanding  the  respect  of  his 
followers  by  the  calmness  and  self-possession  of  his  manner  —  is  a  matter  of 
history.  lie  felt  from  the  moment  that  his  foot  pressed  the  deck  that  the  "  die 
was  cast  ;"  and  when,  on  baffling  winds  arising,  and  the  little  fleet  making  imper- 


feet  way,  it  was  proposed  to  put  back  to  Porto  Ferrajo  and  await  a  more  favourable 
opportunity,  he  scouted  the  idea—"  Officers  and  soldiers  of  my  Guard,"  he  said, 
"we  are  going  to  France;"  and  the  shout  of  enthusiasm  with  which  the 
announcement  was  greeted,  told  how  well  he  understood  his  follower?.  They 
went  to  France.  They  saw  a  French  frigate  at  a  distance,  but  it  neared  them 
not,  and  they  passed.  Napoleon  himself  answered  the  hail  from  the  French  brig, 
which  sought  to  be  informed  how  it  fared  with  the  exile  of  Elba  ;  and  finally  he 
and  all  his  people  made  good  their  landing  on  the  beach  of  the  gulf  of  St.  Juan, 
just  as  the  topmasts  of  the  vessels  from  which  they  had  descended  were  described 
from  the  quarter-deck  of  a  British  sloop  of- war.  So  close  was  the  run  of  this 
extraordinary  man's  fortune  at  the  commencement  of  the  last  act  in  his  public 
life,  and  so  resolute  the  spirit  which  urged  him  to  enter  upon  it,  and  to  go  through 
with  it  successfully. 

Of  the  actual  details  of  the  engagement,  the  following  portion  has  in 
its  terrible  truth  quite  the  vivid  colouring,  and  intense  attraction  of 
a  romance. 

"  It  will  be  necessary  for  a  moment  to  look  back  to  the  proceedings  of  the 
Prussians,  whom  we  left  bringing  their  troops  into  action  as  rapidly  as  they  could, 
and  though  repulsed  in  an  attempt  to  take  possession  of  Planchenoit.  re-forming 
their  masses  and  preparing  again  to  push  them  on  the  village.  It  was  not  exclu- 
sively in  this  direction,  however,  that  Bliicher  strove  to  bring  support  to  his 
allies.  Along  the  Wavre  road  his  cavalry  was  advancing,  and  gradually  falling  in 
on  the  left  rear  of  Best's  brigade,  while  lower  down,  through  Smohaiu  and  La 
Haye,  other  troops,  some  of  them  infantry,  showed  themselves.  These  mate- 
rially strengthened  the  extreme  left  of  the  English  line,  and  being  comparatively 
fresh,  soon  entered  into  the  battle.  In  particular  the  Prussian  artillery  proved  of 
essential  service,  for  the  Hanoverian  batteries  in  this  direction  had  expended  their 
ammunition,  and,  as  the  infantry  and  cavalry  came  up,  they  descended  into  the 
ravine,  and  prepared  to  move  upon  the  right  of  the  enemy's  line.  Thus,  just  at 
the  moment  when  the  English  had  repelled  the  final  attack  of  the  Imperial  Guard, 
when  D'Erlon's  and  Reille's  corps  were  both  completely  disorganized,  when  the 
French  cavalry,  mowed  down  by  the  fire  of  infantry  and  cannon,  were  powerless 
to  resist  the  rush  which  Lord  Uxbridge  was  about  to  make  upon  them,  the  gallant 
Prussians  came  into  plav,  and  a  defeat,  already  achieved,  was  converted  into  anni- 
hilation ;  for  all  means  of  rallying  even  a  rear  guard  ceased.  At  the  same  time 
let  it  be  borne  in  mind,  to  the  honour  of  the  French,  that  on  the  extreme  right 
they  still  presented  a  firm  and  well-arranged  front.  Lobau's  corps  was  unbroken, 
and  though  over-matched,  it  faced  Billow  stoutly.  In  Planchenoit,  likewise,  the 
Young  Guard  maintained  themselves  in  spite  of  Pirch's  repeated  and  desperate 
efforts  to  dislodge  them  :  indeed,  the  progress  made  in  this  direction  was  very 
slow,  for  the  gallant  assailants  purchased  every  foot  of  ground  at  an  expense  of 
life  which  was  fearful.  Still,  the  knowledge  that  he  was  assailed  on  the  flank  and 
well  nigh  in  the  rear  could  not  fail  of  extinguishing  in  the  mind  of  Napoleon 
whatever  ray  of  hope  might  have  yet  lingered  there.  He  cast  a  hurried  glance 
over  the  field  of  battle.  He  saw  his  Guards  coming  back  in  wild  confusion,  and 
strewing  the  earth  with  their  dead  He  looked  round  for  his  cavalry,  and  beheld 
but  broken  squadrons  fleeing  for  life,  yet  failing  to  secure  it  His  guns  were 
either  dismounted  or  abandoned  by  the  artillerymen,  and  there  was  no  reserve 
on  which  to  fall  back.  Then  it  was  that  the  terrible  .words  escaped  him,  which 
will  be  remembered  and  repeated  as  often  as  the  tale  of  his  overthrow  is  told  . 
"Tout  est  pprdu — sauve  qui  peut !"  was  his  last  order,  and  turning  his  horse's 
head,  he  galloped  from  the  field." 

"  It  was  now  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  or  perhaps  a  little  later.  The  phy- 
sical strength  of  the  combatants  on  both  sides  had  become  well  nigh  exhausted, 
and  on  the  part  of  the  English  there  was  a  feverish  desire  to  close  with  the  enemy, 
and  bring  matters  to  an  issue.  Up  to  the  present  moment,  however,  the  Duke 
had  firmly  restrained  them.  For  all  purposes  of  defensive  warfare  they  were 



excellent  troops  ;  the  same  blood  was  in  their  veins  which  had  stirred  their  more 
veteran  comrades  of  the  Peninsula,  but,  as  has  elsewhere  been  explained,  four- 
fifths  of  the  English  regiments  were  raw  levies, — second  battalions,  to  manoeuvre 
with  which  in  the  presence  of  a  skilful  enemy  might  have  been  dangerous. 
Steadily  therefore,  and  with  a  wise  caution,  the  Duke  held  them  in  hand,  giving 
positive  orders  to  each  of  his  generals  that  they  should  not  follow  up  any  tempo- 
rary success,  so  as  to  endanger  the  consistency  of  their  lines,  but  return  after 
every  charge  to  the  crest  of  the  hill,  and  be  content  with  holding  that.  Now, 
however,  the  moment  was  come  for  acting  on  a  different  principle.  Not  by  Adam 
and  Maitland  alone,  but  by  the  brigades  of  Omteda,  Pack,  Kempt,  and  Lambert, 
the  enemy  had  been  overthrown  with  prodigious  slaughter,  and  all  equally  panted 
to  be  let  loose.  Moreover,  from  minute  to  minute  the  sound  of  firing  in  the 
direction  of  Planchenoit  became  more  audible.  It  was  clear,  therefore,  that  even 
young  troops  might  be  slipped  in  pursuit  without  much  hazard  to  their  own 
safety,  and  the  Duke  let  his  people  go.  The  lines  of  infantry  were  simultaneously 
formed,  the  cavalry  mounted  and  rode  on,  and  then  a  cheer  began  on  the  right, 
which  flew  like  electricity  throughout  the  entire  extent  of  the  position.  Well  was 
it  understood,  especially  by  those  who,  on  a  different  soil  and  under  a  warmer  sun, 
had  often  listened  to  similar  music.  The  whole  line  advanced,  and  scenes  com- 
menced of  fiery  attack  and  resolute  defence — of  charging  horsemen  and  infantry 
stern,  such  as  there  is  no  power,  either  in  pen  or  pencil,  adequately  to  describe. 

*'  It  might  savour  of  invidiousness  were  I,  in  dealing  with  this  part  of  my  sub- 
ject, to  specify  particular  brigades  or  regiments,  as  if  they  more  than  others  had 
distinguished  themselves.  The  case  was  not  so.  Every  man  that  day  did  his 
duty— making  allowance,  of  course,  for  the  proportion  of  weak  hearts  which 
move  in  the  ranks  of  every  army,  and  seize  the  first  favourable  opportunity  that 
presents  itself  of  providing  for  their  own  safety.  And  probably  it  will  not  be 
received  as  a  stain  upon  the  character  of  British  troops  if  I  venture  to  hazard  a 
conjecture,  that  in  the  army  of  Waterloo  these  were  as  numerous  as  in  any  which 
the  Duke  of  Wellington  ever  commanded.  Accident,  however,  and  their  local 
situation  in  the  battle  necessarily  bring  some  corps  more  conspicuously  into  view 
than  others,  and  at  this  stage  of  the  fight  Adam's  infantry,  with  Vivian's  hussars, 
had  the  good  fortune  to  take  in  some  sort  the  lead.  The  former  followed  up  their 
success  against  the  Imperial  Guard  with  an  impetuosity  which  nothing  could 
resist.  They  left  the  whole  of  their  dismounted  comrades  behind  them,  and 
seemed  to  themselves  to  be  completely  isolated,  when  Vivian's  hussars  whom 
Lord  Uxbridge  had  ordered  on,  swept  pass  them.  For  there  was  seen  on  the 
rise  of  the  enemy's  ascent  a  body  of  cavalry  collected,  which  gathered  strength 
from  one  moment  to  another,  and  threatened  ere  long  to  become  again  formidable. 
It  was  of  vital  importance  that  it  should  be  charged  and  overthrown  ere  time  was 
given  to  render  it  the  nucleus  of  a  strong  rear  guard ;  and  against  it,  by  the 
Duke's  personal  command,  the  hussar  brigade  was  directed.  Loudly  these  rivals 
in  enterprise  and  gallantly  cheered  one  another  as  the  British  horsemen  galloped 
past,  and  both  caught  a  fresh  impulse  from  the  movement. 

"  Adam's  brigade  moved  steadily  on  ;  Maitland's  marched  in  support  of  it ; 
and  down  from  their  '  mountain  throne'  the  rest  of  the  infantry  moved  in  succes- 
sion. The  cavalry  came  first  into  play.  It  was  observed,  as  they  pushed  on,  that 
at  the  bottom  of  the  descent  two  squares  stood  in  unbroken  order.  These  were  the 
battalions  of  the  Guard  which  had  been  drawn  up  to  support  the  advance  of  the 
French  columns ;  and,  though,  grievously  incommoded  by  the  swarms  of  fugi- 
tives which  rushed  down  upon  them,  t'hey  still  kept  their  ranks.  A  portion 
of  the  cavalry  wheeled  up  and  faced  them.  It  is  a  serious  matter  to  charge  a 
square  on  which  no  impression  has  been  made,  and  probably  Vivian,  with  all 
his  chivalry,  would  have  hesitated  to  try  the  encounter,  had  he  not  seen  that 
Adam  was  moving  towards  the  further  face  of  one  of  these  masses  with  the 
apparent  design  of  falling  upon  it.  He  did  not  therefore  hesitate  to  let  loose  a 
squadron  of  the  10th,  which,  headed  by  Major  Howard,  charged  home,  and 
strove,  though  in  vain,  to  penetrate.  The  veterans  of  the  French  Guard  were 
not  to  be  broken.  They  received  the  hussars  on  their  bayonets,  cut  down  many 


with  their  fire,  and  succeeded  in  retreating  in  good  order,  though  not  without  loss. 
Moreover,  just  at  this  moment  one  battery,  which  had  escaped  the  general  confu- 
sion, opened  upon  the  flank  of  Adam's  brigade,  while  another  came  galloping 
across  the  front  of  the  18th  Hussars,  as  if  seeking  some  position  whence  they  in 
like  manner  might  enfilade  the  line  of  advance  which  the  British  troops  had 
taken.  But  these  latter  were  instantly  charged,  the  gunners  cut  down,  and 
the  pieces  taken  ;  while  the  former  soon  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  52nd  regiment, 
which  changed  its  front  for  a  moment,  and  won  the  trophy. 

"  Darkness  now  began  to  set  in,  and  the  confusion  in  the  French  ranks  became 
so  great  as  to  involve,  in  some  degree,  the  pursuers  in  similar  disorder.  The 
more  advanced  cavalry  got  so  completely  intermingled  among  crowds  of  fleeing 
men  and  horses,  that  they  could  neither  extricate  themselves  nor  deal  their  blows 
effectually.  Moreover,  as  the  night  deepened,  and  the  Prussians  began  to  arrive 
at  the  scene  of  action,  more  than  one  awkward  rencounter  took  place,  which  was 
with  difficulty  stayed.  Nevertheless,  the  pursuit  was  not  checked.  Down  their 
own  slope,  across  the  valley,  up  the  face  of  the  enemy's  hill,  and  beyond  the 
station  of  La  Belle  Alliance,  the  British  line  marched  triumphant.  They  lite- 
rally walked  over  the  dead  and  dying,  the  numbers  of  which  they  were  continually 
augmenting.  Guns,  tumbrils,  ammunition  waggons,  drivers — the  whole  materiel, 
in  short,  of  the  dissolved  army,  remained  nTtheir  possession.  Once  or  twice 
some  battalions  endeavoured  to  withstand  them,  and  a  particular  corps  of  f  grena- 
diers a  cheval'  contrived,  amid  the  wreck  of  all  around,  to  retain  their  order. 
But  the  battalions  were  charged,  rolled  up,  and  dissolved  in  succession,  while  the 
horsemen  effected  no  higher  triumph  than  to  quit  the  Held  like  soldiers.  Still  the 
battle  raged  at  Planchenoit  and  on  the  left  of  it,  where  Lobau  and  the  Young 
Guard  obstinately  maintained  themselves,  till  the  tide  of  fugitives  from  the  rear 
came  rolling  down  upon  them,  and  they  too  felt  that  all  was  lost.  Then  came 
the  Prussians  pouring  in.  Then,  too,  the  Duke,  feeling  that  the  victory  was  won, 
caused  the  order  for  a  general  halt  to  be  passed;  and  regiment  by  regiment 
the  weary  but  victorious  English  lay  down  upon  the  position  which  they  had  won. 

"  It  is  well  known  that  throughout  this  magnificent  advance  the  Duke  was  up 
with  the  foremost  of  his  people.  Nothing  stopped  him — nothing  stood  in 
his  way.  He  cheered  on  Adam's  brigade,  and  halted  beyond  its  front.  He  spoke 
to  the  skirmishers,  and  mingled  with  them  ;  till  at  last  one  of  his  staff  ventured 
to  remonstrate  against  the  manner  in  which  he  was  exposing  himself.  •  You  have 
no  business  here,  sir/  was  the  frank  and  soldier-like  appeal ;  '  we  are  getting  into 
inclosed  ground,  and  your  life  is  too  valuable  to  be  thrown  away.'  '  Never  mind,' 
replied  the  Duke  ;  *  let  them  fire  away.  The  battle's  won,  and  my  life  is  of  no 
consequence  now.'  And  thus  he  rode  on,  regardless  of  the  musketry  which 
whistled  about  him.  The  fact  is,  that  though  he  had  put  a  machine  in  motion 
which  no  resistance  could  stop,  he  was  still  determined  to  superintend  its  working 
to  the  last  moment ;  and  the  further  the  night  closed  in,  the  more  determined  he 
was  to  observe  for  himself  whatever  dispositions  the  enemy  might  have  made. 
Accordingly,  keeping  ahead  of  his  own  line,  and  mingling,  as  has  just  been 
stated,  with  the  skirmishers,  he  pushed  on  till  he  passed  to  a  considerable  distance 
beyond  La  Belle  Alliance,  and  there  satisfied  himself  that  the  route  was  complete. 
At  last  he  reined  up  his  horse,  and  turned  him  towards  Waterloo.  He  rode,  at 
this  titre,  well  nigh  alone.  Almost  every  individual  of  his  personal  staff  had 
fallen,  either  killed  or  wounded.  Col.  De  Lancey,  Quartermaster -General,  was 
mortally  wounded;  Major-Gen.  Barnes,  Adjutant- General,  was  wounded ;  Lieut.- 
Col.  Lord  Fitzroy  Somerset,  Military  Secretary,  '  had  lost  his  right  arm ;  and  of 
his  Grace's  Aides-de-camp  two,  namely,  Lieut. -Col.  the  Honourable  Alexander 
Gordon  and  Lieut. -Col.  Canning,  were  both  struck  down.  The  latter  died  on  the 
spot,  the  former  survived  his  mortal  hurt  only  long  enough  to  learn  from  the 
chief  whom  he  served  and  dearly  loved,  that  the  battle  was  going  well.  Indeed, 
the  losses  that  day  to  England,  and  to  the  best  of  English  blood,  were  terrible. 
Lord  Uxbridge,  as  is  well  known,  was  struck  by  one  of  the  last  shots  fired,  and 
suffered  amputation  of  the  leg.  Picton,  the  hero  of  a  hundred  fights,  was  gone 
whither  alone  his  glory  could  follow  him.  But  it  is  as  useless  to  enumerate  the 


brave  who  purchased  with  their  lives  this  day  a  renown  which  can  never  perish, 
as  it  would  be  idle  to  attempt  a  description  of  the  feelings  of  the  survivors. 

May  every  one,  who  doats  on  England's  fame,  be  he  in  his  school,  his 
manly,  or  his  slippered  days,  read  and  re-read  this  story  of  Waterloo. 

Shores  of  the  Danube,  By  a  Seven  Years'  Resident  in  Greece.  Chap- 
man and  Hall.  186,  Strand.  1847. 

WE  must  confess  we  have  a  predilection  for  an  Eastern  book.  Let 
oriental  narratives  and  descriptions  multiply  as  they  may,  there  is  ever 
something  new  to  tell,  something  marvellous  to  hear  about  the  land  of 
the  cypress  and  myrtle.  The  author  of  the  work  before  us  has  the  ad- 
vantage of  a  long  residence  amid  the  Greeks  and  Turks  ;  and  he  evi- 
dently speaks  with  the  firm  tone  and  clear  conception  of  one  who  is 
thoroughly  conversant  with  his  subject.  The  work  contains  a  fund  of 
entertainment  and  instruction.  There  pervades  too  a  religious  feeling 
throughout  which  leads  to  some  very  impressive  writing  about  the 
present  moral  degradation  of  the  Turks.  The  religion  of  the  Mussul- 
man is  thus  deprecated  : 

"  Mahomedanism  is  hourly  opening  out  into  a  new  aspect  before  me.  I  had 
imagined  it  but  a  low,  degraded  creed,  one  of  the  numerous  offsprings  of  prolific 
error  ard  ignorance,  which,  as  a  substitute  for  the  truth  that  has  not  yet  dawned 
upon  them,  could  not  have  a  better  or  a  worse  effect  in  its  moral  influence,  on 
the  great  multitude,  than  any  other  vain  superstition ;  but  from  the  conversation 
of  those  whom  I  meet  here,  and  who  are  well  qualified  to  judge,  and  from  a 
closer  view  of  its  palpable  working,  not  as  seen  in  the  history  of  past  ages,  but 
on  the  hearts  and  minds  of  the  individuals  with  whom  I  am  actually  in  contact 
every  day,  I  cannot  but  think,  that  it  was  originally  a  deeply-laid  scheme,  carried 
out  with  an  almost  fiend-like  knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  for  enthralling  the 
people  by  working  solely  on  their  evil  passions.  Most  other  religions,  however 
much  they  may  have  fallen  from  their  common  origin  in  man's  instinctive  con- 
sciousness of  the  Supreme,  have  at  least  for  their  ultimate  aim  and  end  the  moral 
improvement  of  man;  whereas  the  system  of  Llamism  would  seem  in  every* 
doctrine  and  in  every  law  to  foster  and  bring  forth  their  worst  propensities,  pre- 
senting even  the  heaven  for  which  their  purer  spirit  is  to  strive  under  images  so 
earthly,  that  the  very  hope  itself  degrades  them  to  the  lowest  level  of  mankind  ; 
and  satisfying  the  conscience  that  goads  their  fallen  nature  to  arise,  with  a  few 
material  and  unmeaning  observances,  strong  onlv  in  their  strictness. 

"  It  is  thus  at  least  that  Mahomedanism  appears  in  this  country ;  elsewhere  it 
may  be,  and  I  have  heard  that  it  is,  otherwise ;  a  religion  not  divine  must  neces- 
sarily have  different  results  according  to  the  character  and  peculiarities  of  the 
people  on  whom  it  acts,  like  the  practical  working  of  any  other  system.  Assur- 
edly it  has  found  here  a  fair  field,  if  its  object  were  to  brutalize  the  people  and 
paralyse  their  higher  faculties ;  for  I  become  daily  more  convinced  than  in  none 
have  the  last  traces  of  that  image  in  which  man  was  created  been  more  utterly 
effaced  than  in  the  Turks,  notwithstanding  the  strong  prepossession  in  favour  of 
this  people  which  exists  in  Europe,  and  which  I  fully  shared  till  I  found  myself 
face  to  face  with  them  in  their  own  country,  and  in  their  true  colours." 

Some  of  the  writer's  adventures  are  related  with  much  ani  nation. 
The  following  account  of  a  stormy  night  on  the  Black  Sea  is  well 
'told  :— 

"  We  were  destined,  however,  to  a  yet  more  unfavourable  reception.  As  we 
got  fairly  out  of  sight  of  land,  every  thing  grew  ominous  of  coming  warfare. 
Just  at  nightfall  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning  suddenly  tore  asunder  the  huge  black 
curtain  which  seemed  to  hang  motionless  against  the  sky,  and  from  the  vast  rent 


the  liberated  tempest  came  thundering  forth,  all  fire  and  fury,  and  rushed  howling 
over  the  agitated  sea,  maddening  the  convulsed  waters  till  spray,  and  foam,  and 
rain,  became  one  wild  confusion,  and  our  little  vessel  shook  and  shivered  as  the 
billows  wreathed  themselves  around  it,  and  dashed  down  raging  on  its  deck.  A 
scene  more  fiercely  desolate  could  not  well  be  conceived ;  the  mournful  howling 
of  the  wind,  and  the  roaring  of  the  ocean,  whose  breast  it  was  tearing  up,  made  a 
savage  music  altogether  which  was  as  awful  as  it  was  sublime ;  and  the  violent 
pitching  of  the  ship  rendered  it  scarce  possible  to  distinguish  the  black  flying 
rack  above  from  the  yet  blacker  mass  of  surge  below  When  matters  came  to 
this  crisis,  of  course  all  went  below,  excepting  the  motionless  Turks ;  and  cer- 
tainly if  the  storm  were  sublime  above,  it  was  most  ludicrous  in  its  eflfects  down 
stairs.  There  was  a  continued  and  involuntary  polka  dancing  on  the  part  of  the 
most  sedate  passengers,  chairs  and  tables  careering  frantically  to  and  fro  with  a 
confused  din,  consisting  of  lamentations  in  Turkish,  anathemas  in  Greek,  angry 
mutterings  of  misery  in  French,  abrupt  and  comprehensible  groans  in  German, 
and  over  all  the  piteous  voice  of  Kentucky,  giving  a  pretty  good  guess  that  he 
had  never  been  so  wretched  before. 

"  From  the  ladies'  cabin  (which  I  entered  head  foremost,  after  having  been 
thrown  down  stairs  by  one  lurch  of  the  vessel,  violently  flung  under  the  table  in 
the  saloon  by  another,  and  jerked  out  again  before  any  one  had  time  to  help  me), 
every  article  of  furniture  had  been  removed ;  and  mingled  invocations  to  St. 
Nicholas  and  the  prophet,  rose  from  various  agitated  heaps  in  the  several  corners. 
After  knocking  my  head  on  the  four  sides  of  the  room,  I  was  precipitated  iiito  a 
berth,  where  I  was  destined  to  pass  the  night,  clinging  to  the  wall  lest  I  should 
fall  out,  and  be  compelled  to  continue  this  violent  exercise. 

"  The  storm  never  abated  during  the  interminable  hours,  till  daylight,  and  al- 
though I  do  not  suppose  any  one  slept  in  the  whole  vessel,  the  sufferers  at  last 
became  quite  passive,  and  nothing  was  to  be  heard  but  an  occasional  groan  ;  di- 
rectly below  me,  an  unfortunate  lady  was  extended  on  a  mattress  on  the  floor, 
which  was  inlaid  with  polished  wood ;  every  time  the  vessel  rolled,  the  mattress 
and  its  burden  slid  down  the  room  to  the  opposite  wall,  where  the  lady  received 
a  violent  blow  on  the  head,  and  then,  as  the  ship  righted  again,  returned  slowly 
to  their  place.  There  was  a  species  of  fascination  in  this  slow  torture,  which 
occupied  me  the  whole  night ;  and  such  was  the  state  to  which  we  were  all  re- 
duced, that  although  the  lady  who  thus  helplessly  acted  the  part  of  a  living 
pendulum,  was  my  own  mother,  I  lay  composedly  watching  her  sail  away  to  the 
other  side,  and  waited  till  she  should  come  back  and  knock  her  head,  without 
even  making  an  effort  to  relieve  her.  Daylight  brought  no  improvement  in  our 
position,  and  I  alone  had  strength  enough  left  to  creep  up  on  deck.  I  managed 
to  crawl  round  to  offer  my  assistance  to  the  inmates  of  the  respective  berths 
before  I  left  the  room ;  but  I  received  no  other  answer  from  any,  than  an  entreaty 
that  I  would  put  a  speedy  termination  to  their  existence.  I  could  not  adopt  so 
violent  a  measure,  though  I  felt  that  my  own  demise  would  have  been  a  relief, 
so  I  left  them  to  their  miseries,  and  with  much  difficulty  crept  up  on  deck,  where 
I  was  dragged  to  a  pile  of  cushions  laid  out  for  me  by  a  sailor,  and  there  I  sunk 
to  move  no  more  all  day,  catching  a  glimpse  in  my  passage  across  the  deck  of  the 
compact  mass  of  turbans  waving  to  and  fro,  with  an  instinctive  consciousness 
that  each  individual  Turk  was  sea-sick. 

"  The  scene  was  not  the  less  dreary  that  the  light  of  day  had  risen  over  it, 
'and  a  cold,  piercing  blast  shriek  most  dismally  among  the  sails,  which  they  had 
vainly  put  up  to  try  and  steady  the  sh  p.  Throughout  the  whole  of  that  long  day 
it  continued  thus.  None  of  the  other  passengers  came  from  below,  and  as  I  lay 
half  asleep,  half  awake,  on  the  deck,  every  now  and  then  the  scenes  we  had  been 
in  the  midst  of,  only  yesterday,  rose  up  before  me ;  the  golden  city  sparkling  in 
sunshine,  the  bird  peopled  gardens,  the  soft  rippling  waters;  till  a  great  cold 
wave,  plunging  into  the  vessel,  and  drenching  me  with  foam,  recalled  me  to  the  con- 
trasted reality,  and  showed  me  the  black,  boiling  sea,  and  wild  tempestuous  sky. 

11  In  the  afternoon,  we  lay  to  for  half  an  hour,  opposite  to  the  town  of  Varna, 
so  celebrated  in  the  Balkan  war,  as  having  stood  a  siege  of  six  mouths  against  an 
enormous  Russian  force.  It  is  so  stormy  a  roadstead  that  I  could  only  obtain  a 
glimpse  of  it  by  clinging  to  the  side  of  the  ship  for  a  few  minutes  as  we  reeled 


to  and  fro,  but  this  cursory  glance  was  sufficient  to  show  me  so  poor  and 
wretched-looking  a  town,  that  I  could  not  conceive  how  a  single  troop  of  cavalry 
should  not  have  been  sufficient  to  demolish  it  at  once ;  yet  I  am  told  that  this 
immense  army,  which  though  it  sustained  considerable  loss  in  the  march  across 
the  Balkan,  had  yet  an  enormous  force,  sat  down  before  it  for  many  months. 

"  There  were  several  Russian  vessels  lying  round  us,  with  all  their  rigging 
seemingly  in  the  trimmest  order,  but  I  knew  how  far  to  trust  to  the  flourishing 
appearance  which  Russia  gives  to  all  her  naval  appurtenances,  from  a  little  cir- 
cumstance which  occurred  not  long  since  in  Athens.  We  had  gone  on  board  of  a 
Russian  corvette,  and  had  greatly  admired,  not  only  the  neatness  and  order 
everywhere  displayed,  but  the  attention  which  seemed  to  be  bestowed  on  the 
comfort  of  the  sailors,  as  their  neat  hammocks  were  all  ranged  round  the  deck 
just  as  in  an  English  ship.  Shortly  after,  a  Russian  lady,  a  friend  of  ours,  went 
a  voyage  in  this  same  ship,  and  returned  long  before  the  time  she  had  originally 
intended,  because  she  was  so  utterly  disgusted  with  the  misery  and  ill-treatment 
of  the  unfortunate  crew.  The  hammocks  were  a  mere  sham  got  up  for  show, 
and  her  description  of  the  want  of  cleanliness  and  comfort,  and  the  barbarous 
punishments  daily  administered,  was  most  dreadful.  The  wind  became  favour- 
able as  soon  as  we  left  Varna,  but  the  night  was  not  the  less  tempestuous  ?  and  I 
was  very  glad  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  before  the  darkness  set  in,  as  it  was 
quite  impossible  to  stand  upright. 

This  volume  is  a  valuable  addition  to  the  many,  but  not  too  many 
books  already  written  about  the  East. 

Translated  by  MARY  HOWITT.     Longman  &  Co.  1847. 

A  DELIGHTFUL  little  book,  written  with  the  whole  fine  soul,  and  sterling 
sentiment  of  that  excellent  author,  Andersen  the  Dane.  The  transla- 
tion, like  indeed  all  those  of  Mrs.  Howitt,  is  most  gracefully  done.  She 
thus  dedicates  the  work  : 

"To  JENNY  LIND,  the  English  Translation  of  the  True  Story  of  her  Friend's 
Life  is  inscribed  in  admiration  of  her  beautiful  talents  and  still  more  beautiful 
life,  by  MARY  HOWITT. 

We  pass  at  once  over  the  other  parts  of  this  interesting  book,  to 
present  from  it  the  following  account  of  the  Swedish  Nightingale,  which 
must  prove  acceptable  to  every  reader  : 

"  At  this  period  of  my  life,  I  made  an  acquaintance  which  was  of  great  moral 
and  intellectual  importance  to  me.  I  have  already  spoken  of  several  persons  and 
public  characters  who  have  had  influence  on  me  as  the  poet ;  but  none  of  these 
have  had  more,  nor  in  a  nobler  sense  of  the  word,  than  the  lady  to  whom  I  here 
turn  myself;  she,  through  whom  I,  at  the  same  time,  was  enabled  to  forget  my 
own  individual  self,  to  feel  that  which  is  holy  in  art,  and  to  become  acquainted 
with  the  command  which  God  has  given  to  genius. 

"  I  now  turn  back  to  the  year  1840.  One  day  in  the  hotel  in  which  I  lived  in 
Copenhagen,  I  saw  the  name  of  Jenny  Lind  among  those  of  the  strangers  from 
Sweden.  I  was  aware  at  that  time  that  she  was  the  first  singer  in  Stockholm.  I 
had  been  that  same  year,  in  this  neighbour  country,  and  had  there  met  with  hon- 
our and  kindness  :  I  thought,  therefore,  that  it  would  not  be  unbecoming  in  me 
to  pay  a  visit  to  the  young  artist.  She  was,  at  this  time,  entirely  unknown  out  of 
Sweden,  so  that  I  was  convinced  that,  even  in  Copenhagen,  her  name  was  know 
only  by  a  few.  She  received  me  very  courteously,  but  yet  distantly,  almost 
coldly.  She  was,  as  she  said,  on  a  journey  with  her  father  to  South  Sweden,  and 
was  come  over  to  Copenhagen  for  a  few  days  in  order  that  she  might  see  this 
city.  We  again  parted  distantly,  and  I  had  the  impression  of  a  very  ordinary 
character  which  soon  passed  away  from  my  mind. 

"  In  the  autumn  of  1843,  Jenny  Lind  came  again  to  Copenhagen.     One  of  my 



friends,  our  cleverjballet-m  aster,  Bournonville,  who  has  married  a  Swedish  lady, 
a  friend  of  Jenny  Lind,  informed  me  of  her  arrival  here  and  told  me  that  she  re- 
membered me  very  kindly,  and  that  now  she  had  read  my  writings.  He  entreated 
me  to  go  with  him  to  her,  and  to  employ  all  my  persuasive  art  to  induce  her  to 
take  a  few  parts  at  the  Theatre  Royal ;  I  should,  he  said,  be  then  quite  enchanted 
with  what  I  should  hear. 

"  I  was  not  now  received  as  a  stranger ;  she  cordially  extended  to  me  her  hand, 
and  spoke  of  my  writings  and  of  Miss  Fredrika  Bremer,  who  also  was  her  affec- 
tionate friend.  The  conversation  was  soon  turned  to  her  appearance  in  Copen- 
hagen, and  of  this  Jenny  Lind  declared  that  she  stood  in  fear. 

"  '  I  have  n*ver  made  my  appearance/  said  she,  '  out  of  Sweden;  every  body 
in  my  native  land  is  so  affectionate  and  kind  to  me,  and  if  1  made  my  appearance 
in  Copenhagen  and  should  be  hissed ! — I  dare  not  venture  on  it !' 

"  I  said,  that  I,  it  was  true,  could  not  pass  judgment  on  her  singing,  because  I 
had  never  heard  it,  neither  did  I  know  how  she  acted,  but  nevertheless  I  was  con- 
vinced that  such  was  the  disposition  at  this  moment  in  Copenhagen,  that  only  a 
moderate  voice  and  some  knowledge  of  acting  would  be  successful ;  I  believed 
that  she  might  safely  venture. 

"  BoumonviUe's  persuasion  obtained  for  the  Copenhageners  the  greatest  en- 
joyment which  they  ever  had. 

"  Jenny  Lind  made  her  first  appearance  among  them  as  Alice  in  Robert  le 
Diable — it  was  like  a  new  revelation  in  the  realms  of  art,  the  youthfully  fresh 
voice  forced  itself  into  every  heart ;  here  reigned  truth  and  nature ;  every  thing 
was  full  of  meaning  and  intelligence.  At  one  concert  Jenny  Lind  sang  her 
Swedish  songs ;  there  was  something  so  peculiar  in  this,  so  bewitching ;  people 
thought  nothing  about  the  concert  room ;  the  popular  melodies  uttered  by  a 
being  so  purely  feminine,  and  bearing  the  universal  stamp  of  genius,  exercised 
their  omnipotent  sway — the  whole  of  Copenhagen  was  in  raptures.  Jenny  Lind 
was  the  first  singer  to  whom  the  Danish  students  gave  a  serenade :  torches  blazed 
around  the  hospitable  villa  where  the  serenade  was  given :  she  expressed  her 
thanks  by  again  singing  some  Swedish  songs,  and  I  then  saw  her  hasten  into  the 
darkest  corner  and  weep  for  emotion. 

"  *  Yes,  yes/  said  she,  *  I  will  exert  myself;  I  will  endeavour,  I  will  be  better 
qualified  than  I  am  when  I  again  come  to  Copenhagen.' 

"  On  the  stage,  she  was  the  great  artiste,  who  rose  above,  all  those  around  her  ; 
at  home,  in  her  own  chamber,  a  sensitive  young  girl  with  all  the  humility  and 
piety  of  a  child. 

"  Her  appearance  in  Copenhagen  made  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  our  opera  ; 
it  showed  me  art  in  its  sanctity— I  had  beheld  one  of  its  vestals.  She  journeyed 
back  to  Stockholm,  and  from  there  Fredrika  Bremer  wrote  to  me  : — '  With  re- 
gard to  Jenny  Lind  as  a  singer,  we  are  both  of  us  perfectly  agreed  ;  she  stands 
as  high  as  any  artist  of  our  time  can  stand  ;  but  as  yet  you  do  not  know  her  iu  her 
full  greatness.j  Speak  to  her  about  her  art,  and  you  will  wonder  at  the  expansion  of 
her  mind,  and  will  see  her  countenance  beaming  with  inspiration.  Converse  then 
with  her  of  God,  and  of  the  holiness  of  religion,  and  you  will  see  tears  in  those 
innocent  eyes ;  she  is  great  as  an  artist,  but  she  is  still  greater  in  her  pure  human 
existence  !' 

"  In  the  following  year  I  was  in  Berlin  ;  the  conversation  with  Meyerbeer 
turned  upon  Jenny  Lind ;  he  had  heard  her  sing  the  Swedish  songs  and  was 
transported  by  them. 

"  '  But  how  does  she  act  ?'  asked  he. 

"  I  spoke  in  raptures  of  her  acting,  and  gave  him  at  the  same  time  some  idea 
of  her  representation  of  Alice.  He  said  to  me  that  perhaps  it  might  be  possible 
for  him  to  determine  her  to  come  to  Berlin. 

"  It  is  sufficiently  well  known  that  she  made  her  appearance  there,  threw  every 
one  into  astonishment  and  delight,  and  won  for  herself  in  Germany  a  European 
name.  Last  autumn  she  came  again  to  Copenhagen,  and  the  enthusiasm  was  in- 
credible ;  the  glory  of  renown  makes  genius  perceptible  to  every  one.  People 
bivouacked  regularly  before  the  theatre,  to  obtain  a  ticket.  Jenny  Lind  appeared 
still  greater  than  ever  in  her  art,  because  they  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  her 


in  many  and  such  extremely  different  parts.  Her  Norma  is  plastic ;  every  atti- 
tude might  serve  as  the  most  beautiful  model  to  a  sculptor,  and  yet  people  felt 
that  these  were  the  inspiration  of  the  moment,  and  had  not  been  studied  before 
the  glass.  Norma  is  no  raving  Italian  ;  she  is  the  suffering,  sorrowing  woman — 
the  woman  possessed  of  a  heart  to  sacrifice  herself  for  an  unfortunate  rival — the 
woman  to  whom,  in  the  violence  of  the  moment,  the  thought  may  suggest  itself 
of  murdering  the  children  of  a  faithless  lover,  but  who  is  immediately  disarmed 
when  she  gazes  into  the  eyes  of  the  innocent  ones. 

"  (  Norma,  thou  holy  priestess,'  sings  the  chorus,  and  Jenny  Lind  has  com- 
prehended and  shows  to  us  this  holy  priestess  in  the  aria,  Casta  diva.  In  Copen- 
hagen she  sang  all  her  parts  in  Swedish,  and  the  other  singers  sang  theirs  in 
Danish,  and  the  two  kindred  languages  mingled  very  beautifully  together ;  there 
was  no  jarring;  even  in  the  Daughter  of  the  Regiment,  where  there  is  a  deal  of 
dialogue,  the  Swedish  had  something  agreeable — and  what  acting !  nay,  the  word 
itself  is  a  contradiction— it  was  nature ;  anything  as  true  never  before  appeared 
on  the  stage.  She  shows  us  perfectly  the  true  child  of  nature  grown  up  in  the 
camp,  but  an  inborn  nobility  pervades  every  movement.  The  Daughter  of  the 
Regiment  and  the  Somnambule  are  certainly  Jenny  Lind's  most  unsurpassable 
parts;  no  second  can  take  their  places  in  these  beside  her.  People  laugh,— they 
cry  ;  it  does  them  as  much  good  as  going  to  church  ;  they  become  better  for  it. 
People  feel  that  God  is  in  art ;  and  where  God  stands  before  us  face  to  face  there 
is  a  holy  church. 

"  '  There  will  not  in  a  whole  century,'  said  Mendelssohn,  speaking  to  me  of 
Jenny  Lind,  e  be  born  another  being  so  gifted  as  she ;'  and  his  words  expressed 
my  full  conviction  ;  one  feels  as  she  makes  her  appearance  on  the  stage,  that  she 
is  a  pure  vessel,  from  which  a  holy  draught  will  be  presented  to  us. 

"  There  is  not  any  thing  which  can  lessen  the  impression  which  Jenny  Lind's 
greatness  on  the  stage  makes,  except  her  own  personal  character  at  home.  An 
intelligent  and  child-like  disposition  exercises  here  its  astonishing  power;  she  is 
happy  ;  belonging,  as  it  were,  no  longer  to  the  world,  a  peaceful,  quiet  home,  is 
the  object  of  her  thoughts — and  yet  she  loves  art  with  her  whole  soul,  and  feels 
her  vocation  in  it.  A  noble,  pious  disposition  like  hers  cannot  be  spoiled  by 
homage.  On  one  occasion  only  did  I  hear  her  express  her  joy  in  her  talent  and 
her  self-consciousness.  It  was  during  her  last  residence  in  Copenhagen.  Almost 
every  evening  she  appeared  either  .in  the  opera  or  at  concerts  ;  every  hour  was  in 
requisition.  She  heard  of  a  society,  the  object  of  which  was,  to  assist  unfortu- 
nate children,  and  to  take  them  out  of  the  hands  of  their  parents  by  whom  they 
were  misused,  and  compelled  either  to  beg  or  steal,  and  to  place  them  in  other 
and  better  circumstances.  Benevolent  people  subscribed  annually  a  small  sum 
each  for  their  support,  nevertheless  the  means  for  this  excellent  purpose  were  small. 

"  '  But  have  I  not  still  a  disengaged  evening  ?'  said  she ;  *  let  me  give  a  night's 
performance  for  the  benefit  of  these  poor  children ;  but  we  will  have  double 
prices !' 

"  Such  a  performance  was  given,  and  returned  large  proceeds ;  when  she  was 
informed  of  this,  and,  that  by  this  means,  a  number  of  poor  children  would  be 
benefited  for  several  years,  her  countenance  beamed,  and  the  tears  filled  her  eyes. 

"  '  It  is  however  beautiful/  said  she,  '  that  I  can  sing  so  !' 

"  I  value  her  with  the  whole  feeling  of  a  brother,  and  I  regard  myself  as  happy 
that  I  know  and  understand  such  a  spirit.  God  give  to  her  that  peace,  that  quiet 
happiness  which  she  wishes  for  herself  ! 

"  Through  Jenny  Lind  I  first  became  sensible  of  the  holiness  there  is  in  art ; 
through  her  I  learned  that  one  must  forget  oneself  in  the  service  of  the  Supreme. 
No  books,  no  men  have  had  a  better  or  a  more  ennobling  influence  on  me  as  the 

Ct,  than  Jenny  Lind,  and  I  therefore  have  spoken  of  her  so  long  and  so  warmly 

It  is  rather  singular  that  the  author  also  describes  another  acquain- 
tance,— no  less  a  person  than  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  whose  genius, 
as  well  as  that  of  Jenny  Lind  happens  just  now  to  have  shed  its  bril- 
liant influence  over  the  metropolis. 


"  I  also  have  to  thank  him  for  my  acquaintance  with  Rachel.  I  had  not  seen 
her  act,  when  Alexander  Dumas  asked  me  whether  I  had  the  desire  to  make  her 
acquaintance.  One  evening,  when  she  was  to  come  out  as  Phedra  he  led  me  to 
the  stage  of  the  Theatre  Francais.  The  representation  had  begun,  and  behind 
the  scenes,  where  a  folding  screen  had  formed  a  sort  of  room,  in  which  stood  a 
table  with  refreshments,  and  a  few  ottomans,  sate  the  young  girl  who,  as  an  author 
has  said,  understands  how  to  chisel  living  statues  out  of  Racine's  and  Corneille's 
blocks  of  marble.  She  was  thin  and  slenderly  formed,  and  looked  very  young. 
She  looked  to  me  there,  and  more  particularly  so  afterwards  in  her  own  house,  as 
an  image  of  mourning ;  as  a  young  girl  who  has  just  wept  out  her  sorrow,  and 
will  now  let  her  thoughts  repose  in  quiet.  She  accosted  us  kindly  in  a  deep 
powerful  voice.  In  the  course  of  conversation  with  Dumas,  she  forgot  me.  I 
stood  there  quite  superfluous.  Dumas  observed  it,  said  something  handsome  of 
me,  and  on  that  I  ventured  to  take  part  in  the  discourse,  although  I  had  a  de- 
pressing feeling  that  I  stood  before  those  who  perhaps  spoke  the  most  beautiful 
French  in  all  France.  I  said  that  I  truly  had  seen  much  that  was  glorious  and 
interesting,  but  that  I  never  yet  had  seen  a  Rachel,  and  that  on  her  account 
especially  had  I  devoted  the  profits  of  my  last  work  to  a  journey  to  Paris  ;  and 
as,  in  conclusion,  I  added  an  apology  on  account  of  my  French,  she  smiled  and 
said,  *  When  you  say  any  thing  so  polite  as  that  which  you  have  just  said  to  me, 
to  a  Frenchwoman,  she  will  always  think  that  you  speak  well.' 

"  When  I  told  her  that  her  fame  had  resounded  to  the  North,  she  declared  that 
it  was  her  intention  to  go  to  Petersburgh  and  Copenhagen  ;  f  and  when  I  come 
to  your  city/  she  said,  '  you  must  be  my  defender,  as  you  are  the  only  one  there 
whom  I  know ;  and  in  order  that  we  may  become  acquainted,  and  as  you,  as 
you  say,  are  come  to  Paris  especially  on  my  account,  we  must  see  one  another 
frequently.  You  will  be  welcome  to  me.  I  see  my  friends  at  my  house  every 
Thursday.  But  duty  calls/  said  she,  and  offering  us  her  hand,  she  nodded  kindly, 
and  then  stood  a  few  paces  from  us  on  the  stage,  taller,  quite  different,  and  with 
the  expression  of  the  tragic  muse  herself.  Joyous  acclamations  ascended  to  where 
we  sate. 

"  As  a  Northlander  I  cannot  accustom  myself  to  the  French  mode  of  acting 
tragedy.  Rachel  plays  in  this  same  style,  but  in  her  it  appears  to  be  nature  it- 
self; it  is  as  if  all  the  others  strove  to  imitate  her.  She  is  herself  the  French 
tragic  muse,  the  others  are  only  poor  human  beings.  When  Rachel  plays  people 
fancy  that  all  tragedy  must  be  acted  in  this  manner.  It  is  in  her  truth  and  nature, 
but  under  another  revelation  to  that  with  which  we  are  acquainted  in  the  north. 

"At  her  house  every  thing  is  rich  and  magnificent,  perhaps  too  recherche.  The 
innermost  room  was  blue- green,  with  shaded  lamps  and  statuettes  of  French 
authors.  In  the  salon,  properly  speaking,  the  colour  which  prevailed  principally 
in  the  carpets,  curtains,  and  bookcases  was  crimson.  She  herself  was  dressed  in 
black,  probably  as  she  is  represented  in  the  well-known  English  steel  engraving 
of  her.  Her  guests  consisted  of  gentlemen,  for  the  greater  part  artists  and  men 
of  learning.  I  also  heard  a  few  titles  amongst  them.  Richly  apparelled  servants 
announced  the  names  of  the  arrivals :  tea  was  drunk  and  refreshments  handed 
round,  more  in  the  German  than  the  French  style. 

"  Victor  Hugo  had  told  me  that  he  found  she  understood  the  German  lan- 
guage. I  asked  her,  and  she  replied  in  German,  "  ich  kann  es  lesen  ;  ich  bin  ja 
in  Lothringen  geboren ;  ich  habe  deutsche  Biicher,  sehn  Sie  hier  !'  and  she 
showed  me  Grillparzer's  '  Sappho/  and  then  immediately  continued  the  conversa- 
tion in  French.  She  expressed  her  pleasure  in  acting  the  part  of  Sappho,  and 
then  spoke  of  Schiller's  '  Maria  Stuart/  which  character  she  has  personated  in  a 
French  version  of  that  play.  I  saw  her  in  this  part,  and  she  gave  the  last  act 
especially  with  such  a  composure  and  tragic  feeling,  that  she  might  have  been 
one  of  the  best  of  German  actresses ;  but  it  was  precisely  in  this  very  act  that 
the  French  liked  her  least. 

"  *  My  countrymen/  said  she,  '  are  not  accustomed  to  this  manner,  and  in  this 
manner  alone  can  the  part  be  given.  No  one  should  be  raving  when  the  heart  is 
almost  broken  with  sorrow,  and  when  he  is  about  to  take  an  everlasting  farewell 
of  his  friends.' 


"  Her  drawing-room  was,  for  the  most  part,  decorated  with  books  \vhicb  were 
splendidly  bound  and  arranged  in  handsome  book-cases  behind  glass  A  paint- 
ing hung  on  the  wall,  which  represented  the  interior  of  the  theatre  in  London, 
where  she  stood  forward  on  the  stage,  and  flowers  and  garlands  were  thrown  to 
her  across  the  orchestra.  Below  this  picture  hung  a  pretty  little  book-shelf, 
holding  what  I  call  '  the  high  nobility  among  the  poets/ — Goethe,  Schiller,  Cal- 
deron,  Shakspeare,  &c. 

"  She  asked  me  many  questions  respecting  Germany  and  Denmark,  art,  and 
the  theatre;  and  she  encouraged  me  with  a  kind  smile  around  her  grave  mouth, 
when  I  stumbled  in  French  and  stopped  for  a  moment  to  collect  myself,  that  I 
might  not  stick  quite  fast. 

"  '  Only  speak/  said  she.  '  It  is  true  that  you  do  not  speak  French  well.  I 
have  heard  many  foreigners  speak  my  native  language  better ;  but  their  conver- 
sation has  not  been  nearly  as  interesting  as  yours.  I  understand  the  sense  of 
your  words  perfectly,  and  that  is  the  principal  thing  which  interests  me  in  you.' 

"  The  last  time  we  parted  she  wrote  the  following  words  in  my  album  :  '  L'art 
c'est  le  vrai !  J'espere  que  cet  aphorisme  ne  semblera  pas  paradoxal  a  un  ecri- 
vain  si  distingue  comme  M.  Andersen/ 

at  Cologne. 

To  TRAVELLERS,  and  many  will  be  travellers  now,  this  pamphlet-shaped 
book  affords  a  fund  of  information  upon  German  railways.  Evidently  the 
production  of  mine  host  of  the  famous  hotel  of  the  "  Grand  Monarque" 
at  Aachen,  he,  of  course  holds  forth  his  own  hostelry  to  public  approbation ; 
yet  as  the  following  account  may  prove  really  useful,  we  do  not  hesitate 
to  extract  it  : 

"  Aix-la-Chapelle,  founded  by  Charlemagne,  famous  for  the  efficacy  of  its 
mineral  waters,  as  well  as  for  the  loveliness  of  its  neighbourhood,  affords  so 
agreeable  a  sojourn  to  the  traveller,  that  he  would  regret,  not  to  have  spent  at 
least  one  day  there.  As  there  are  every  day  five  trains  for  Cologne  and  four  for 
Belgium,  travellers  who  are  in  a  hurry,  may  on  their  arrival  at  twelve  o'clock  see 
the  curiosities  of  the  town  before  a  quarter  past  one  ;  when  an  excellent  table 
d'hote  is  served  at  Mr.  Dremel's  Hotel  du  grand  Monarque ;  there  is  another  table 
d'hote  at  five  o'clock,  with  the  best  attendance.  Travellers,  who  arrive  in  the  after- 
noon, tired  by  a  long  railroad  journey,  may  pass  a  most  delightful  evening  at  Aix- 
la-Chapelle.  After  the  table  d'hote  at  five  o'clock,  the  Louisberg,  a  hill,  about  an 
English  mile  far  from  the  town,  is  the  rendezvous  of  all  foreigners. — From  the  lofty 
terraces  of  the  castle,  which  is  built  in  the  modern  style,  the  most  magnificent  view 
of  the  town  and  its  picturesque  neighbourhood  charms  the  visitor's  eye. — Good 
roads  pass  through  the  whole  park,  which  is  shaded  by  trees,  and  offers  every  induce- 
ment for  walking,  or  driving  and  riding.  A  band  plays  there  every  day. — On  Thurs- 
day, there  is  great  assembly  and  concert  by  the  military  band.  It  is  not  unusual  to 
see  two  thousand  visitors  circulate  in  the  spacious  saloons,  galleries  and  charming 
forests  of  the  Louisberg. 

''Through  all  the  season  a  Balpare  is  given  every  Saturday  night  at  the  grand 
Redoute ;  every  night  grand  opera  or  concert,  either  at  the  theatre,  or  in  the 
large  saloons  of  the  society  called  Erholuny ;  or  at  the  salle  of  the'grand  Redoute, 
the  pure  and  grand  style  of  which  is  justly  admired  by  all  travellers. 

"  Every  evening  there  are  supper  a  la  carte  and  concert  at  the  Hotel  du  pgrand 
Monarque.  After  supper,  society  meets  again  at  the  Redoute,  where  Trente  and 
Quarante  and  Roulette  is  played.  An  elegant  reading  room,  with  all  German, 
English,  French,  Belgian  and  Dutch  papers,  affords  entertainment  to  the  visitors. 
A  fine  garden  belonging  to  this  establishment  is  a  favourite  walking-place,  where 
shelter  is  to  be  found  under  covered  galleries,  during  rainy  weather. 

"Concerts,  balls,  festivals  of  all  kind,  follow  without  interruption. — From  seven 


to  eight  every  morning  the  band  plays  at  the  Elisenbrunen,  usual  gathering  place 
for  drinkers  of  mineral  waters.  The  military  band  plays  at  noon  at  the  theatre 
square.  The  cathedrale,  the  hotel  de  ville  are  monuments  of  the  time  of  Charle- 
magne, and  number  amongst  the  most  remarkable  edifices  on  the  borders  of  the 

DIRECTIONS  FOR  PLAIN  KNITTING  :  with  additions  and  corrections  for 
the  working  Classes  and  Schools.  By  RACHEL,  JANE  CATTLOW.  Third 
Thousand.  Darton  and  Clarke,  Adams  and  Co:,  London.  Hyde  and 
Crewe,  Newcastle  under  Lyme,  1847". 

EVERY  lady,  who  has  the  gracefnl  and  time-honoured  taste  of  Penelope 
should  favour  this  little  hut  valuable  publication.  We  of  course  are  not  pro- 
fessed in  the  ancient  mystery  and  most  useful  handicraft  of  knitting  ;  but 
the  least  learned  on  the  subject  may  perceive  the  intrinsic  merits  of  this 
pleasing  production.  Its  sale  has,  too,  already  reached  a  third  thousand 
— a  strong  proof  of  its  ability  ;  it  fully  deserves  to  number  thousands 
and  thousands  to  come,  for  one  feature  of  it  is  that  it  adapts  itself  to  the 
working  classes,  and  in  these  industrious  days,  no  cottager  ought  to  be 
without  it.  How  many  ladies  now  vie  with  each  other  in  ornamental 
work,  and,  armed  with  their  needles,  perform  wonders  in  the  pro- 
duction of  fanciful  decoration.  They  too  may  not  deem  a  little  knitting 
unworthy  their  attention,  though  of  plain  and  homely  character,  for  its 
utility  is  great  indeed.  To  them  this  book  will  be  of  service  also. 

We  touch  not  on  its  feminine   contents,  further  than  extracting  the 
following  quaint  address  with  which  the  skilful  lucubration  commences  ; 


"  'Tis  seventy  years,  or  thereabouts, 

Since  I  was  taught  to  knit ; 
And  on  a  cricket  I  was  placed 

By  our  good  dame  to  sit. 

My  needles  were  of  wire  that  bent, 

Not  like  your  steel  so  polished  ; 
And  to  my  frock  a  sheath  was  pinned, 

Which  now  is  quite  abolished. 

A  bit  of  worsted  served  my  turn, 

Which  twirled  and  twisted  sadly  ; 
Strutt's  good  brown  cotton,  in  those  days, 

Would  have  been  hailed  most  gladly. 

Now  your  old  dame  gives  this  advice 

To  the  rising  generation, 
That,  whilst  children  are  young,  they  learn  to  knit, 

Whatever  may  be  their  station. 

I  think,  if  you  will  give  good  heed 

To  the  following  explanations, 
You'll  find  that  your  stockings,  and  socks,  and  gloves 

Will  answer  your  expectations." 

VOL.    IV.    NO.    XVI. 



Allfrey,  Mrs.  Frederick  Wra.  of  a  dau.  19th  June. 
Anson,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  T.  Anchitel  Anson, 

of  a  dau.  2nd  July. 
Ark  wright,  Mrs.  Edward,  of  a  dau.  at  Cliffe  House, 

Warwick,  llth  July. 
Ashmore,  Mrs.  wife  of   the  Rev.  Paul  Ashmore,  of 

a  son,  at  Nottingham  House,  Eltham,  5th  July. 
Atkinson,  Mrs,  wife  of  Robt.  James  Atkinson,  Esq. 

Assistant  Surgeon  of  Bengal  Light  Cavalry,  of  a 

dau.  at  Cawnpore,  2nd  May. 

Austen,  Mrs.  Fred.  Lewis,  of  a  dau.  at  Hyde  Park- 
square,  19th  June. 
Aylward,  Mrs.  A.  F.  of  a  dau.  at  Chesham  Vicarage, 

6th  July. 
Barlow,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  late  George  Barne  Barlow, 

Esq.  of  a  son,  at  Great  George-street,  Westmin- 
ster, 19th  June. 
Beaumont,   Mrs.  John,  of    a  dau.   at    West  Hill, 

Putney,  9th  July. 
Bedale,  Mrs.  John,  of  a  dau.  at  Clapham  New  Park, 

19th  July. 

Bell,  Mrs.  Jacob,  of  a  dau.  at  Hull,  20th  June. 
Bergman,  Mrs.  John  George,  of  a  dau.  at  Formosa, 

Cookham,  Berks,  l6th  July. 
Best,  Mrs.    H.  P.  of  a  son,  at  the  Castle   House, 

Donnington,  Newbury,  27th  June. 
Birchall,  Mrs.  wife  of  Win,  H.  Birchall,  Esq.  of  a 

son  and  heir  at  Burley  Grange,  Leeds,  18th  July. 
Black,  Mrs.  wife  of  Patrick  Black,  Esq.  M.D.  of  a 

son,  in  Bedford  Square,  22nd  June. 
Blakesley,  Mrs.  of  a  son,  at  Ware  Vicarage.  Herts, 

8th  Julyc 

Bogie,  Mrs.  of  Rosemount,  co.  Ayr,  of  a  son,  1st  July. 
Bonner,  Mrs.   Charles  F.    of  a  son,   at   Spaldin&r, 

4th  July. 
Bowyer,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  Wentworth  Bowyer, 

of  a  dau.  at  Edinburgh,  16th  July. 
Braithwaite,  Mrs.  Isaac,  of  Mechlenburgh  Square, 

of  a  sou,  18th  July. 

Bridgman,  Mrs.  Frances  O.  H.  of  a  dau.  at  Mu- 
nich, 29th  June. 
Bristow,  Mrs.  of  a  dau.  at  Brotmore   Park,  Wilts, 

16th  July. 
Brown,  Mrs.  John,  of  a  son,  at  Marlborough,  Wilts, 

18th  June. 
Bryant,  Mrs.  Walter,  of  a  dau.  at  Bathurst-street, 

13th  July. 
Brymer,  Mrs.  John,  of  a  son,  at  Burgate  House, 

Hants,  1 6th  July. 
Butler,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  Weeden  Butler,  of  a 

dau.  at  the  Vicarage,  Wickham-market,  Suffolk, 

13th  July. 
Butler,  Mrs.  Walter,  of  a  dau.  at  Maida-hill,  20th 

Campbell,  Mrs.  Walter  F.  of  Islay,  of  a  dau.   at 

Edinburgh,  20th  July. 
Carey,  Mrs.  Adolphus  F.  of  a  son,  at  Burbage  Hinck- 

ley,  co.  Leicester,  18th  July. 
Cavendish,  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Richard,  of  a  dau.  3rd 

Chapman,  Mrs.  George,  of  a  son,  at  Arundel-street. 

14th  July. 

Coape,  Mrs.  James,  of  a  dau.  at  Mirables,   Isle  of 

Wight,  1st  July. 
Clarke,  Mrs.  H.  B.  of  St.  John's  Wood  Road,  of  a 

son,  30th  June. 
Collet,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  W.  Lloyd  Collet,  A.M. 

of  a  dau.  3rd  July. 

Compton,  Lady  Wm.  of  a  dau.  1st  July. 
Corbett,  Mrs.  Edward,  of  a  dau.  at  Longnor  Hall, 

Salop,  1st  July. 
Cotton,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  George  Cotton,  of  a 

son,  at  Rugby,  29th  June. 
Cox,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  J.  M.  Cox,  of  a  son,  'at 

East  Stoke  Rectory,  l?th  June. 
Crokat,  Mrs.   Charles,  of  a  dau.  at  Albion-street, 

Hyde  Park,  21st  June. 
Crowdy,  Mrs.  G.  F.  of  a  son,  at  Farringdon,  2nd 

Cumming- Gordon,  Mrs.   Alex.  P.  of  Altyne,  of  a 

son,  loth  June. 
Dacres,  Mrs.   wife  of  Captain  Sydney  C.   Dacres, 

R.  N.  of  a  son,  17th  July. 
Dale,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  H.  Dale,  of  a  dau.  at 

Blackheath,  4th  July. 

Dallas,  the  Hon.  Lady,  of  a  son,  14th  July. 
Dalrymple,    Mrs.    Elphinston,  of    a  dau.  at  West 

Hall,  co.  Aberdeen,  17th  July. 
Daniel,  Mrs.  wife  of  Dr.  Wythe   Daniel  of   Park 

House,  Southall,  of  a  dau.  3rd  July. 
Day,  Mrs.  John,  of  a   dau.  at  Newick  Lodge,  IQth 

Deane,  Mrs.  Francis  Henry,  of  a  dau.  at  Westborne 

Villas,  4th  July. 
Dent,  Mrs.  Thomas  of  Hyde  Park-terrace,  of  a  dau. 

9th  July. 

Donaldson,  Mrs.  W.  Leverton,  of  a  son,  15th  July. 
Echalaz,  Mrs.  Fred.  A.  of  a  dau.  12th  July. 
Eck,  Mrs.  F.  A.  of  a  dau.  at  Valparaiso,  15th  Apl. 
Edmunds,  Mrs  wife  of  E.  Edmunds,  jun.,  Esq.  of 

Bradford,  Wilts,  of  a  dau.  13th  July. 
Farquhar,  Lady  Mary,  of  a  dau.  13th  July. 
Faulconer,  Mrs.  Thomas,  of  a  dau.  at  Westbourne- 

terrace,  llth  July. 
Fletcher,  Mrs.   James,  of  a  dau.  at  Chester  Square. 

29th  June, 
Forrest,  Mrs-  wife  of  James  Archibald  Forrest,  Esq. 

5th  Fusileers,  of  a  dau.  30th  June. 
Fowler,  Mrs.  wife  of  Lieut.  G.  C.   Fowler,  R.N.  of 

a  son,  at  Woolwich,  21st  July. 
Francis,  Mrs.  S.    R.  Green,  of  a  son,  at  Cranharn 

Place,  Easex,  19th  July. 

Frederick,  Mrs.  Major  General,  of  a  son,  at  Shaw- 
ford,  near  Winchester,  15th  July. 
Freebaim,  Mrs.  J.  C.  of  a  son,  atBoath  near  Naine, 

14th  June. 
Freeman,  Mrs.  Williams,  of  a  son,  at  Fawley  Court, 

20th  June. 
Gaije,  the   Hon.  Mrs.  of  a  dau.  at  Whitehall  Yard, 

9Jh  July. 
Gallini,  Mrs.   wife  of  A.   Gallini,  Esq.   of  a  son  at 

Donnington  Castle  Cottage,  10th  July. 
Gamble,   Mrs.   wife  of  Dr.  Gamble,  of  a  son,' 2nd 




Giles,  Mrs.  James,  of  a  son,  at  Haling  Park,  Croy 

don,  17th  July. 
Gladstone,  Mrs.  William,  of  a  dau,  at  Fitzroy-park, 

Highgate.  17th  July. 
Godby,  Mrs.  wife  of  the   Rev.  C.  H.  Godby,  2nd 


Griffin,  Mrs.  Alfred,  of  a  son,  2nd  July. 
Gunnel),  Mrs.  Burgess,  of  a  son,  at    Hanwell,  8th 


Hamilton,  the  Lady  Claude,  of  a  dau.,  3rd  July. 
Hamilton,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  W.  K.  Hamilton, 

M.A.  of  a  son,  7th  July. 
Harden,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  J.  W.  Harden,  of  a 

dau.  23d  June. 

Harford,  Mrs.  C.  R.  jun.,  of    a  son.  18th  June. 
Haygarth,  Mrs.  J.  S.  of  a  son,  at  Redmaston  Rec 

tory,  near  Cirencester,  9th  July. 
Hewitt,  Mrs.  B.  B.  of  a  son  at  Weymouth-street, 

22nd  July. 
Holden,  Mrs.  Edward  A.  of  Aston  Hall,  co.  Derby 

of  a  son,  27th  June. 

Holden,  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Drury,  of  a  son,  1st  July. 
Holland,  Mrs,  Henry  Lancelot,  of  a  dau.  5th  July. 
Hopper,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  E.  H.  Hopper,  of  a 

dau.  at  Old  Windsor,  26th  June. 
Home,  Mrs.  H,  of  Montague  Sq.,  of  a  son,  7th  July. 
Hughes,  Mrs.  wife  of  the   Rev.  Henry  Hughes,  of 

a  son,  at  Gordon  Street,  21st  July. 
Irvine,  Mrs.  wife  of  Lt.  Col.  Irvine,  C.  B.  of  a  son, 

at  Kensington,  2nd  July. 
Jenner,  Mrs.  Edward  F.  of  a  son,  at  Lowndes  St. 

25th  June. 
Johnson,   Mrs.   Henry,  of   a    dau.    at  Woodford, 

Essex,  19th  July. 

Jones,  Mrs.  D.  of  Pontglase  and  Penlar,  co.  Car- 
marthen, of  a  dau.  at  Baden,  16th  July. 
Kennaway,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  C.  E.  Kennaway, 

of  a  son,  3rd  July. 

Kennedy,  Mrs.  Langford,  of  a  son,  1st  July. 
King,   Mrs.    Charles,  of  a  son,   at   New  Cottage 

Farm,  near  Potter's-bar,  17th  July. 
Kerby,  Mrs.  George  Goldsmith,  of  a  son,  at  Ken- 
sington, 22d  June. 
Kuper,  Mrs.  the  wife  of  Capt.  Kuper.  C.B.  R.N.  of 

a  son,  27th  June. 
Langmore,  Mrs.  wife  of  J.  C.  Langmore,  M.B.  of 

a  dau.  8th  July. 

Lee,  Mrs.  G.  Maclean,  of  a  dau.  at  Esher,  7th  July. 
Lee,  Mrs.  Valentine,  of  a  son,  2nd  June. 
Lewis,  Mrs.  Edward,  of  a  son,  15th  July. 
Lewis,  Mrs.    Henry,  of  a  son  and   heir,  at   Pant- 

gwynlas,  co.  Glamorgan,  21st  July. 
Little,  Mrs.  Thomas  Selby,  of  a  son,  at  Worcester, 

17th  July. 
Lovett,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  Robert  Lovett,  of  a 

dau.  19th  July. 
Macleane,  Mrs.  wife   of  the  Rev.   A.  J.  Macleane, 

of  a  dau.  at  Brighton,  20th  July. 
Mansfield,  Mrs.  J.  of  a  dau.  at  St.  Mark's  Parson- 
age, Swindon,  3rd  July. 
Martin,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  Chancellor  Martin,  of 

twins,  a  son  and  a  dau.  the  latter  survived  only  a 

short  time,  at  the  Close,  Exeter,  5th  July. 
Marryatt,  Mrs.  Horace,  of  a  son,  at  Hampton  Court 

Palace,  18th  July. 
Milward,  Mrs.  George,  of  a  son,|at  the  Manor  House, 

Lechlade,  3d  July. 
Mitchell,  Mrs.  John,  of  Forcett  Hall,  co.  York,  of  a 

son  and  heir,  12th  July. 
Montrose,  the  Duchess  of,  of  a  son  and  heir,  22nd 

Murdoch,  Mrs.  wife  of  Clinton  Murdoch,  Esq.  of  a 

dau.  6th  July. 
Newington,  Mrs.  wife  of  C.  E.  Hayes  Newington, 

M.D.  of  a  son,  12th  July. 

Newton,  Mrs.  Charles,  of  a  son  and  heir,  at  Dais- 
ton,  25th  June. 
Noad,  Mrs.  David  Innes,  of  a  son,  at  Herne  Hill, 

12th  July. 
Norton,   Mrs.  Henry  E.  of  a  son,  at  Woburn   Sq. 

21st  June. 
Ogilvie,  Jlrs.  wife  of  G.  M.  Ogilvie,  Esq.  of  a  dau. 

at  Kensington  Garden  Terrace,  gth  July. 

j  Palmer,  Mrs.  J.  Carrington,  of  a  son,  7th  July. 
Peacock,  Mrs.  Anthony,  of  a  son,  at  Ranceby  Hall, 

co.  Lincoln,  13th  July. 

Pearse.Mrs.  John,  of  a  dau. at  Dunstable,  2lst  June. 
Pennant,  the  Lady  Louisa  Douglas,  of  a  dau.  13th 

Petley,  Mrs.  Charles  R.  C.  of  a  dau.  at  Riverhead, 

Seven  Oaks,  15th  July. 
Peto,  Mrs.  S.  Morton,  of  a  dau.  26th  June. 
Phipps,  Mrs.  wife  of  Lt.  Col.  the  Hon.  C.  B.  Phipps, 

of  a  son,  14th  July. 
Place,  Mrs.  wife  of  Lionel  R.  Place,  Esq.   R.N.  of 

a  son,  10th  July. 

Playfair,  Mrs.  Lyon,  of  a  dau.  at  Barnes,  8th  July. 
Plunkett,  Mrs.  James,  of  a  son,  at  Tavistock  Square, 

6th  July. 
Ricardo,  Mrs.  Percy,  of  a  dau.  at  Westborne  Cres 

cent,  24th  June. 
Robertson,    Mrs.    wife  of   Capt.  J.  E.  Robertson, 

6th  Royal  Regt.,  of  a  son.  24th  June. 
Robertson,  Mrs.  E.  L.  of  a  son,  at  Norfolk    Cres- 
cent, 24th  June. 

Robinson,  Mrs.   W.  S.  of  a  dau.  at  Dyrham   Rec- 
tory, Gloucestershire,  llth  July. 
Russell,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  A.  B.  Russell,  of  a 

son,  at  the  Vicarage,  Wells,  llth  July. 
Salt,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.   Joseph  Salt,  of  a  son, 

at  Standon  Rectory,  29th  June. 
Saxton,  Mrs.  Edward,  of  a  dau.  at  Highbury  Park, 

18th  June. 
Sheriff,  Mrs.  Francis,  of  a  dau.  at  Calverley  Park, 

20th  July. 

Smith,  Mrs.  H.  J.  of  a  dau.  at  Worthing,  igth  July. 
Smith,  Mrs.  D.  Scott,  of  Devonshire-street,  of   a 

dau.  19th  July. 
Smith,  Mrs.  Major,  of  a  son,  at  Plympton  Lodge, 

13th  July. 
Smith,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  Smith,  of  a 

son,  at  Camberwell,  16th  July. 
Somerville,  Mrs.  James  Curtis,  of  a  dau.  at  Wells, 

17th  July. 

Spriggs,  Mrs.  H.  of  a  son,  at  Hornsey,  10th  July. 
Stephenson,  Mrs.  George  Robert,  of  a  dau.  at  Black- 
heath  Park,  15thJuiy. 

Sumner,  Mrs.  Robert,  of  a  dau.  at  Colbourne  Rec- 
tory, Isle  of  Wight,  25th  June. 
Swifte,   Mrs.  Edmund    Leathol,    of  a  dau.  at  the 

Tower,  14th  July. 
Synnot,  Mrs.  Robert,  of  a  dau.  at  Cadogan  Terrace, 

16th  July. 
Tait,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Tait,  of  a  dau.  at 

Rugby,  20th  June. 
Tomkins,  Mrs.  Samuel,  iun.  of  a  son,  at  Albert-road, 

Regent's  Park,  20th  July. 
Torkington,  Mrs.    L.   I.   of    a  son,  at  Tunbridge 

Wells,  20th  July. 
Tweedy,  Mrs.  John  Newman,  of  a  son,  at  Portu  au 

Prince,  Hayti,  17th  May. 
Ullathorne,  Mrs.  G.  Hutton,  of  a  son,  at  Notting- 

hill,  5th  July. 
Vigne,  Mrs.  wife  of  the  Rev.  Henry  Vigne,  of  a  dau. 

at  Sunbury  Vicarage,  12th  July. 
Wake,  Mrs.W.  of  a  dau,  at  Southampton,  4th  July. 
Watson,  Mrs.  Henry,  of  a  son,  at  Wellingborough, 

9th  July. 
Watson,   Mrs.  T.  S.  of  a  son,   at  Kcw  Green,  4th 

Watt,  Mrs.  wife  of  Captain  Watt,  Bengal  Cavalry, 

of  a  dau.  at  Lea,  Kent,  23rd  June. 
Watts,  Mrs.  Richard,  of  a  dau.  at-Langford  Vicar- 
age, Lechlade,  22nd  July. 
Willink,  Mrs.  W.  W.  of  a   son,  at  Barntley,  near 

Liverpool,  10th  July. 
Wood,  Mrs.  W.  Charles,  of  a  son,  at  Fiddington 

House,  near  Devizes,  23d  June. 
Wroughton,  Mrs.  Philip,  of  a  son,  at  Ibstone  House, 

19th  July. 
Wyllie,    Mrs.  John,   of   a   son,  at   Fulham,   10th 

Yonge,  Mrs.  wife  of  Captain  Gustavus  Yonge,  2nd 

Queen's  Royals,  of  a  son,  14th  July. 
Young,  Mrs.  James  H.  of  a  dau.  at   Lee,  Kent, 

20th  July. 

p  2 


Alcock,  Joseph  Locker,  Esq.,reldest  son  of  Samuel 
AJoork,  Esq.,  of  Elder-house,  Cobridge,  Stafford 
shire,  to  Susannah,  eldest  daughter  of  the  late 
William  Burbridge,  Esq.,  of  Hatton-garden, 
London,  24th  June. 

Anderson,  W.  D.,  Esq.,  of  Sherrington,  Wilts,  to 
Marianne,  eldest  daughter  of  the  late  Rev.  Thos. 
Harrison,  incumbent  of  Holy  Trinity,  White- 
haven,  and  rector  of  Corney,  Cumberland,  8th  July. 

Andrews,  Stanley,  Esq.,  of  St.  Paul's-p  ace,  Isling- 
ton, to  Louisa,  youngest  daughter  of  the  late  J. 
D.  Welch,  Esq.,  of  Holyfield,  Essex,  l6th  June. 

Arkwright,  the  Rev,  Henry,  to  Ellen  Home  Purves, 
daughter  of  the  late  Viscountess  Canterbury,  1st 

Bailey,  Edward,  eldest  son  of  Edward  Savage 
Bailey,  Esq.,  of  Berners-street,  to  Maria,  second 
daughter  of  James  Coles,  Esq.,  of  Old-park, 
Clapiiam-common,  24th  June. 

Baiss,  James,  Esq.,  of  Champion-hill,  Camber- 
well,  to  Ann,  fourth  daughter  of  Benjamin  Stand- 
rinpr,  Esq.,  of  theMinories,  1st  July. 

Barker,  Bradshaw,  Esq.,  youngest  son  of  the 
late  John  Barker,  Esq.,  of  Langshaw,  Dum- 
friesshire, North  Britain,  to  Rebekah  Maria, 
eldest  daughter  of  Colonel  R.  E.  Burrows,  K.H., 
Blackwell-'house,  Somersetshire,  20th  July. 

Barker,  John,  Esq.,  of  Langshaw,  Dumfriesshire, 
of  the  Madras  Medical  Service,  to  Isabella  Hutch- 
inson,  daughter  of  the  late  Major  Campbell,  of 
Walton -park,  H.E.I.C.S  ,  22nd  June. 

Barker,  Joseph,  Esq.,  of  Coleshill,  Warwickshire, 
to  Harriet,  youngest  daughter  of  fhe  late  Edward 
Woolls,  Esq.,  of  Winchester,  8th  July. 

Barnard,  Henry,  eldest  son  of  the  late  William 
Barnard,  Esq.,  of  Kennington,  to  Elizabeth 
Jane,  eldest  daughter  of  the  late  Captain  Henry 
Hamby,  i;th  July. 

Barnes, '  Robert,  M.B.,  of  Park-road,  Notting- 
hill,  and  Glocester-terrace,  Hyde-park,  to  Eliza, 

.  eldest  daughter  of  John  Fawkener,  Esq.,  of 
Norland- place,  Notting-hill,  IQth  June. 

Bathe,  U'illiain  P.,  Esq.,  of  12,  South-street 
London,  to  Ann  Maria,  eldest  daughter  of  the 
late  David  Cameron,  Esq.,  of  Northaw-place, 
Herts,  22nd  June. 

Beckwith,  Wm.  Andrews,  Esq.,  of  Wells,  Somer- 
set, to  Mary  Ann,  youngest  daughter  of  the  late 
James  Baker,  Esq.,  or  Creeksea-place,  Essex 
13th  July. 

Benson,  Samuel,  fourth  son  of  Rev.  J.Benson,  rector 
of  Norton,  Somerset,  to  Philippa,  Tyoungest  dau. 
of  James  Bourne,  of  Somerset  street,  Portman- 
square,  29th  June. 

Berriedale,  Lord,  son  of  the  Earl  of  Caithness,  to 
Louisa  Georgiana,  youngest  daughter  of  G.  R. 
Phillips,  Esq.,  M.P.,  and  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Phil- 
lips, 10th  July. 

Blake,  the  Rev.  Henry  Bunbury,  eldest  son  of  Sir 
Henry  BlaUe,  Bart.,  of  Langham,  Suffolk,  to 
Frances  Marian,  only  daughter  of  Henry  James 
Oakes,  Esq.,  of  Nowton-court,  and  High  Sheriff 
of  the  county  of  Suffolk,  1st  July. 

Bligu,  Richard,  Esq.,  eldest  son  of" the  late  Richard 
Biigh,  Esq.,  barrister  of  the  Inner  Temple,  and 
grandson  of  the  late  Admiral  Wm.  Biigh,  to 
Maria  Isabella,  daughter  of  the  late  Captain 
Fennell,  Aide-de-Carnp  to  Sir  Thomas  Brisbane 
Bart.,  then  Governor  of  New  South  Wales,  l6tl 

Blundell,  Mr.  Henry  Caslon,  of  the  Commissariat 
third  son  of  Thomas  Leigh  Blundell,  M-D.,  of 
39,  Lombard-street,  to  Elizibeth,  daughter  of 
Joseph  Taylor,  Esq.,  of  Port  Frances,  28th  April. 

Bond,  Edward  AugustusJE^q.,  to  Caroline  Frances, 
daughter  of  the  late  Rev.  il.  II.  Barhain,  rector 
of  St.  Faith's,  London,  loth  July. 

Bowdoin,  James  Temple,  Esq.,  late  Captain  of  the 
4th  (Royal  Iri^h)  Dragoon  Guards,  only  son  of  the 
late  James  Temple  Bowdoin,  Esq.,  and  grandson 
of  Sir  John  Temple,  Bart.,  to  Elizabeth,  third 
daughter  of  Sir  William  Clay,  Bart.,  M.P.,  of 
Fulwell-lodge,  in  the  county  of  Middlesex,  26th 

Bradley,  the  Rev.  Edward,  of  Brighton,  to  Sarah, 
the  youngest  daughter  of  Mr.  John  Torey,  of 
Gibson-square,  Islington,  25th  June. 

Buckingham,  Wm.,  Esq.,  of  Exeter,  to  Elizabeth 
Heath,  third  daughter  of  the  late  John  Herman 
Merivale,  Esq.,  24th  June. 

Burrowes,  John,  third  son  of  the  late  Thomas 
Burrowes,  Esq.,  of  Limehouse,  to  Funny,  fourth 
daughter  of  Charles  Rich.  Nelson,  Esq.,  of 
Twickenham-common,  Middlesex,  14th  July. 

Campbell,  Captain  Colin  Yorke,  R.N.,  eldest  son 
of  Rear-Admiral  D.  Campbell,  of  Barbreck, 
Argyleshire,  to  Elizabeth,  second  daughter  of 
James  Hyde,  Esq.,  of  Apley,  Isle  of  Wight,  1st 

Champ,  Charles,  Esq.,  of  Camden-road-villas, 
Camden  New-town,  to  Eliza,  youngest  daughter 
of  the  late  C.  Wooifrey,  Esq.,  of  Lulworth, 
Dorsetshire,  23rd  June. 

Champion,  Henry,  youngest  son  of  the  late  Chan. 
Champion,  Esq.,  of  Blyth,  Notts,  to  Miss  Rogers 
of  Ranley-house,  near  Retford,  Notts,  10th  July, 

Champneys.  the  Rev.  Dr.,  head-master  of  the  Col. 
legiate  School,  Glasgow,  to  Sarah  Leake,  eldest 
daughter  of  the  late  Rev.  T.  H.  Walpole,  vicar 
of  Wii.slow,  Bucks,  15th  July. 

Chapman,  Wm.  Danie,  Esq.,  youngest  son  of  Wm. 
Chapman,  Esq.,  of  Newcasile-on-Tyne,  to  Janet, 
fifth  surviving  daughter  of  the  Rev.  H.  T.  Hare, 
of  Ducking-hall,  Norfolk,  8th  July. 

Charles,  Robert,  eldest  son  of  Robert  Charles, 
E-q.,  of  Endsleigh-terrace,  Tavistock-square,  to 
Henrietta  Keddey,  daughter  of  Joseph  Fletcher, 
Esq.,  of  Union-dock,  Limehouse,  29th  June. 

Colgrave,  Francis  Edward,  son  of  Wm.  Col  grave, 
Esq.,  of  Bryanston-square,  London,  and  Brace- 
bridge  and  Mere-hall,  Lincolnshire,  to  Mary 
Elizabeth,  eldest  daughter  of  Robert  Bruce 
Chichester,  Esq.,  of  Lower  Seymour-street,  Port- 
man-square,  and  niece  of  Sir  Bruce  Chichester, 
Bart.,  of  Arlington-court,  Devon. 

Collin,  Count  du,  Baron  de  Barizien,  Viscount  de 
Cury,  to  the  Countess  Cofmar,  daughter  of  his 
Royal  Highness  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  10th 

Comins,  Richard,  Esq.,  of  Tiverton,  to  Catherine 
Mack,  youngest  daughter  of  John  Shuckburgh 
How,  Esq.,  of  the  Lodge,  near  Tiverton,  24th  June. 

Cooper,  Wm.,  jun.,  Esq.,  of  Upper  Holloway,  to 
Catherine,  second  daughter  of  James  Simms, 
Esq.,  of  Haslemere,  Surrey,  14th  June. 

Colter,  Pownoll  Pellow,  Esq.,  R.N.,  to^  Harriett 
Emma,  second  daughter  of  the  late  John  Haile, 
ESI].,  Paymaster  and  Purser,  R.N.,  of  Albany- 
road,  Camberwell,  20th  July. 

Davenport,  Sam.  Skurray,  Esq.,  of  Bahia,  to  Anna 
Cecilia,  eldest  daughter  of  Frederick  Grigg,  Esq., 
late  of  Rio  de  Janeiro,  30th  June. 

Deane,  Joseph,  late  Captain  Carabineers,  son  of  the 
late  W.  Browne,  Esq.,  and  the  Lady  Charlotte,  of 
Browne's-hill,  Carlow,  to  Georgiana  Charlotte, 
only  child  of  the  late  Lieut.-Coi.  Thursby,  of  the 
53rd  Regiment,  23rd  June. 

Dolan,  Henry,  Esq.,  of  Isleworth,   to  Anne   Con- 



stuntia,  daughter  of  John  Rees,  Esq.,  of  Melbury-f  Hatf on,    George   Sydney,    Esq.,   Albert-villas,    St. 

terrace,  Hare  wood-square,  7th  July.  j  John's,  Fuluam,  to  Anne,  second  daughter  of 

Domviile,  the  Rev.  David  Edward,  M.A.,  of  Se-  Henry  Wilkinson,  Esq.,  Bromptou-square,  1/ta 

mington,  Wiltshire,  to  Mary   Jane,  daughter  of      July. 

Ewen  Stabb,  Esq.,  of  the    Retreat,   South    Lam-  Healey,  George,  of  Watford,  to  Elizabeth  Whitting- 

beth,  13th  July.  |  stall,  only  daughter  of  John  Beaumont,  Esq.,  of 

Drake,  John,  Esq.,  of  Regent's-park,  to  Eliza,!  St.  Alban's,  24th  June. 

^i  i_i_         T     1 ll_ll M      ,.,-.,..,        T.1^ 1      T? 

youngest   daughter  of    the   late    John  Belli- my, 
Esq.,  of  Wobern-square,  1st  July. 

Driffield,  Charles  Edward,  of  Prescot,  solicitor,  to 
Margaret,  youngest  daughter  of  the  late  Peter 
Millett,  Esq.,  of  Prescot,  6th  July. 

Dunn,  Richard  Marsh,  Esq.,  eldest  son  of  Captain 
James  C.  Dunn,  Royai  Navy,  to  Eliza  Helen 
yonnarer  daughter  of  James  Bower,  Esq.,  of 
Weymouth  and  Me!comb  Regis,  20th  July. 

Dunne,  Charles  Augustus,  third  sou  of  the  late 
Simon  Dunne,  Esq.,  R  N.,  commander  of  her 
Majesty's  cruiser,  Castle  Coote,  to  Maria,  eldest 
rlausrlifer  of  the  late  Mr.  Thomas  Dyson,  oi 
London,  21st  June. 

Dutt.n,  Wm.  Quinton,   Esq  ,  of  Twickenham,   to 
Mary  Ann,  eldest  daughter  of  Wm.  Dutton,  Esq 
of  Hampton,  Oxfordshire,  16th  June. 

Eastwick,  Edward  B.,  Esq.,  of  Haleybury,  to 
Rusina  Jane,  only  surviving  daughter  of  the  late 
Jiunes  Hunter  Esq.,  of  Hafton,  25tL  June. 

JM'vatdes,  John,  Esq.,  youngest  son  of  Vincent 
Edwardes,  Esq  ,  of  Farmcote,  Staffordshire,  to 
Jemima,  daughter  of  the  late  Rev.  John  Marten 
Butt,  M.A.,  vicar  of  East  Garston,  Berks,  26th 

Hounslow,  to  Caroline,  youngest  daughter  of 
Robert  Tench,  Esq.,  of  Ludlow,  30th  June. 

Erwin,  Alfred  Stevens,  Esq.,  of  Bognor,  to  Emily 
Maitland,  second  daughter  of  Capt.  Addison, 
H.E.I.C.S.,  29th  June. 

Fisher,  the  Rev.  Robert  Bailey,  vicar  of  Basildon, 
to  Louisa,  third  daughter  of  the  late  Isaac  Currie, 
Esq..  of  Bush-hill,  Middlesex,  21st  July. 

Henderson,  Edward,  Esq.,  of  the  Bombay  Military 
Service,  second  son  of  John  P.  Henderson,  Esq. 
of  Manchester-square,  to  Judith  Hutton,  eldest 
daughter  of  the  late  Dr.  Wm.  Cookson,  M.D., 
of  Lincoln,  17th  July. 

Hinde,  Wm.  Esq.,  of'Cleobury  Mortimer,  Salop, 
to  Mary  Frances,  second  daughter  of  Thomas 
Williams,  Esq.,  of  Warfield- lodge,  Berks,  and  of 
Adelaide,  South  Australia,  8th  July. 

Hockin,  John,  Esq.,  of  Dominica,  third  son  of  tLe 
Rev.  Win.  Hockin,  rector  of  Philiack,  Cornwall, 
to  Mary,  second  daughter  of  Wm.  Hickeas,  E.-q., 
of  Camberwell -grove,  24th  June. 

Hodgson,  the  Rev.  O.  A.,  minor  canon  of  Win- 
chester Cathedral,  to  Eleanor  Lucy,  second 
daughter  of  Wm.  Mitchell,  Esq.,  of  Pctersfidd, 
1st  July. 

Hore,  Lieutenant  E.  G.,  second  son  of  the  late 
Captain  Hore,  R.N.,  of  Pole-Hore,  in  the  c;U'i!y 
of  Wexford,  Ireland,  to  Maria,  second  <iuu^hu;r 
of  Lieut. -Col.  Reid,  Governor  of  the  Wii.dward 
Islands,  17th  June. 

Huggins,  Edward,  Esq.,  of  Bellina-villa,  Kentish- 
town,  to  Ellen,  eldest  daughter  of  John  Meacock, 
Esq.,  of  Little  Baling,  2nd  July. 

nmott,    Christopher    Browning:,    Esq.,  M.D.,  of  Hughes,  the  Rev.  John  Young,    B.  A.,  to    Justina 

Mercy,  only  child  of  Richard  Rhodes,  Esq.,  of 
Greenwich,  15th  July. 

Inglefield,  S.  H.  S.,  Lieutenant  Royal  Artillery, 
second  son  of  Rear-Admiral  Inglefield,  C.B  , 
Commander-in-Chief  of  the  East  India  and  China 
Station,  to  Charlotte,  youngest  daughter  of  the 
late  Colonel  Coore,  of  Scrutton-hall,  in  the  same 
county,  28th  June. 

Frost,  Thomas,  Esq.,  Gravel-pits,  Shere,  Surrey,  to  Illingworth,  the  Rev.  Edward,  M,A.,  of  Edgbaston, 

Julia  Caroline,  third  daughter  of  Captain  Pyner, 
East  Sandfield-house,  Guildford,  8th  June. 

Gard  iner,  James  Spalding,  Esq.,  of  Manor-house, 
Great  Wymondly,  Herts,  to  Mary  Ann,  only 
child  of  the  late  George  and  Mary  Ann  Haywood, 
ami  granddaughter  of  the  late  Wm.  Porthouse, 
Esq.,  of  Balham-hill,  Surrey,  19th  June. 

Gel!,  Inigo,  son  of  Francis  Harding  Gell,  Esq.. 
cot  oner  for  the  county  of  Sussex,  to  Anne,  dau. 
of  Edward  Prichard,  Esq.,  banker,  Ross,  6th  July. 

Gtsrney,  Francis  Hay,  eldest  son  of  Daniel  Gurney, 
E*q.,  of  North  Runcton,  and  the  late  Lady 
Harriet  Gurney,  to  Margaret  Charlotte,  eldest 
daughter  of  Sir  Wm.  Browne  Folkes,  Bart.,  8th 

Hal  head,  Francis,  of  the  Middle  Temple,  Esq., 
son  of  the  late  John  Halhead,  Esq.,  of  Yately- 
house,  Hants,  to  Mary  Anne,  daughter  of  the 
-late  James  Powell,  Esq.,  of  Clapton-house,  Mid- 
dlesex, 1st  July. 

Hammet,  James  Palmer  Francis,  eldest  son  of  the 
late  James  Esdaile  Hammet,  Esq.,  to  Jocosa 
Jane,  second  daughter  of  Swynfen  Jervis,  Esq., 
of  Whitehall-place,  and  Darlaston-hall,  Stafford- 
shire, 1st  July, 

Hammond,  Charles  Eaton,  Esq.,  banker,  of  New- 
market, to  Emily  Law  Wilson,  second  daughter 
of  the  Rev  Plumpton  Wilson,  vicar  of  Thorpe, 
Arnold,  1st  July. 

Hammond,  the  Rev.  Egerton  Douglas,  second  son 
of  Wm.  Osmond  Hammond,  Esq.,  of  St.  Alban'«- 
couit,  Kent,  to  Elizabeth  Katherine,  elder  dau. 
of  Robert  Whitmore,  Esq.,  of  Portland-place, 
London,  6th  July. 

Hartley,  the  Rev.  Wm.  Samuel,  B.A.,  vicar  of 
Laughton,  Yorkshire,  to  Elizabeth,  youngest 
daughter  of  the  Rev.  Henry  Boyce,  M.A.,  of 
the  Abbey-road,  St.  John's-wood,  1st  July. 

Hdrwood,  James,  Esq.,  to  Charlotte,  youngest 
daughter  of  the  late  John  Tray  ton  Fuller,  Esq., 
of  Ashdown-house,  in  the  county  of  Sussex,  13th 

only  son  of  A.  Illingworth,  Esq.,  surgeon,  R.N., 
of  Fowey,  Cornwall,  to  Louisa,  daughter  of  the 
late  Dr.  Percy,  of  Bedworth-hall,  Warwickshire, 
and-  niece  of  Miss  Piercy,  of  Priory-place, 
Edibaston,  17th  June. 

Jackson,  Henry,  Esq.,  of  St.  Helen 's-place,  Lon- 
don, to  Emily,  daughter  of  the  late  David  Came- 
ron, Esq.,  of  'Northaw-place,  Herts,  15th  July. 

Janson,  Henry,  Esq,  of  Clapton-terrace,  to 
Caroline,  only  daughter  of  the  late  Thos.  Home 
Janson,  Esq.,  of  Hurstperpoint. 

Jones,  Alban  Thomas,  Esq.,  of  Bilboa,  to  Marie 
Margarita  de  Ynchaustegui,  of  Aibia,  Biscav, 
23rd  June. 

Key,  John  Binny,  Esq.,  of  the  firm  of  Binny  and 
Co.,  Madras,  to  Annabella  Homeria,  vm:"ow  of 
the  late  John  Harcourt,  Esq.  surgeon  H.ftJ.S. 
and  eldest  daughter  of  Major- General  Sir  George 
Pollock,  G.C.B.  27th  Feb. 

Knipe,  George  Marshall,  Esq.,  S.Qth  regt. ,  second 
son  of  G.  M.  Knipe,  Esq.,  of  Belturbet,  county 
of  Cavan,  to  Jessie  Maria,  daughter  of  the  late 
Sir  Simon  Howard,  of  Carlisle,  many  years  Pie 
sideut  of  the  Medical  Board  at  Madras,  20th 

Kynvett,  Frederic,  Esq.,  Captain,  Madras  Army, 
to  Laura  Frances,  second  daughter  of  the  late 
Major  d'Arley,  28th  June. 

Lambert,  Benjamin,  second  son  of  Daniel  Lam- 
bert, Esq.,  of  Banstead,  to  Margaret  Anne,  eld. 
daughter  of  P.  N.  Tomlins,  Esq.,  of  Pain- 
ter's-hall,  London,  and  Dulwich,  Surrey,  lOtli 

Landon,  the  Rev.  James  T.  B.,  M.A.,  Fellow  of 
Magdalen  College,  Oxford,  to  Sarah,  second  duu. 
of  the  late  Francis  Watt,  Esq.,  of  Beveriev, 
Yorkshire,  13th  July. 

Langton,  W.  F.,  Esq.,  of  Bryfield,  county  of  Devon, 
to  Ellen  Laura  Elizabeth,  third  daughter  of  t!:e 
late  Lieutenant  Colonel  Shakleworth,  of  Lea 
Grange.  15th  July. 

Last,  Charles  Henry,  Esq.,  of  Hadleigh,  Suffolk,  t 



Louisa,  youngest  daughter  of  the  late  Rev.  Job 
Marple  Wallace,  rector  of  Great  Braxted,  Essex, 
14th  July. 

Leckie,  Charles  Taylor,  Esq.,  Royal  Nayy,  to  Eli 
zabeth  Binning,  second  daughter  of  Major  Shairp, 
of  Houstoun,  l6th  June. 

Lloyd,  Francis,  Esq.,  Beaufort-lodge,  Chelsea,  to 
Marian  Sadler,  eldest  daughter  of  the  late  Edw. 
Sadler,  Esq.,  of  Sutton  Coldfield,  Warwickshire, 
22nd  June. 

Lomas,  Holland,  eldest  son  of  George  Lomas,  Esq. 
of  Birch-hall,  Lancashire,  to  Nony  Hardy,  second 
daughter  of  Samuel  Johnston,  Esq.,  of  Olinda 
Liscard,  Cheshire,  22d  June. 

Low,  Archibald  M'Arthur,  Esq.,  of  Chancery-lane, 
London,  solicitor,  to  Caroline  Anne,  eldest  dau. 
of  George  Hewlett,  Esq.,  of  Kniller's-court, 
near  Fareham,  10th  July. 

Lucas,  Richard  Bland,  of  South  Audley-street,  to 
Eliza,  daughter  of  Mr.  Richard  Edwards,  of 
Batshanger,  in  the  county  of  Kent,  17th  June. 

Lupton,  Francis,-  Esq.,  of  Leeds,  to  Frances  Eliza- 
beth, only  daughter  of  T.  M.  Greenhow,  Esq., 
Newcastle-upon-Tyne,  1st  July. 

Luscombe,  J.  H.,  Esq.,  of  Forest-hill,  Sydenham, 
to  Clara,  eldest  daughter  of  James  Bristow,  Esq  , 
of  Ifield-court,  in  the  county  of  Sussex,  22d 

Lyte,  John  Walter  Maxwell,  of  Berry  Head,  Devon, 
to  Emily  Jeannette,  eldest  daughter  of  the  late 
Colonel  Craigie,  Bengal  Army,  24th  June. 

MacDonnell,  Richard  Graves,  L.L.D.,  eldest  son  of 
the  Rev.  Dr.  MacDonnell.  Senior  Fellow  of 
Trinity  College,  Dublin,  to  Blanche  Anne,  third 
daught»r  of  Francis  Skurray,  Esq.,  of  Brunswick- 
square,  Brighton,  10th  July. 

Maddock,  William,  Esq.,  of  Liverpool,  to  Eliza- 
beth, second  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Edward  Whit- 
ley,  of  Wandsworth,  23rd  May. 

Marke,  Sedley  Bastard,  Esq.,  of  Liskeard,  in  the 
county  of  Cornwall,  and  of  the  Crescent,  Ply- 
mouth, to  Ann  Eliza,  eldest  daughter  of  the  Rev. 
Henry  Addington  Simcoe,  of  Penheale,  Corn- 
wall, and  granddaughter  of  the  late  Lieutenant- 
General  Simcoe,  of  Wolford-lodge,  Devon,  22d 

Meadows,  the  Rev.  J.  C.,  M.A.,  only  son  of  the 
late  Lieutenant-Colonel  Meadows,  15th  Regi- 
ment, and  grandson  of  the  Very  Rev.  Dr.  Duppe", 
formerly  Dean  of  Jersey,  to  Isabella,  second  dau. 
of  Captain  Edward  Sutherland,  the  Royal  Hos- 
pital, Chelsea,  14th  July. 

Mecham,  Maunsell,  Esq.,  to  Harriett  Fairfax,  relict 
of  Edward  Fairfax,  Esq.,  R.N.,  15th  July. 

Mercer,  Arthur  Hill  Hasted,  Esq.,  60th  King's 
Royal  Rifles,  son  of  Colonel  Mercer,  R.M.,  Com 
mandant,  Plymouth,  to  Elizabeth  Anne,  daugh- 
ter of  the  late  Major  Robert  Hutchinson  Ord, 
R.A.,  K.H.,  a  Deputy- Lieutenant  for  the  county 
of  Essex,  10th  July. 

Merest,  James  Drage,  Esq.,  of  the  Abbey,  Bury  St. 
Edmund's,  Suffolk,  to  Maria  Billington,  third 
daughter  of  the  late  William  Hawes,  Esq.,  of  the 
Adelphi  terrace,  London,  IQth  July. 

Miles,  Geo.,  Esq.,  of  Lee,  Kent,  to  Fanny,  youngest 
daughter  of  the  late  Edward  Augustus  Gilbons, 
Esq.,  of  the  Wandsworth  road,  1st  July. 

Miller,  Arthur  Octavius,  son  ol  the  late  Richard 
Miller,  Esq.,  of  Kensington-lodge,  Harrow,  to 
Elizabeth,  eldest  daughter  of  Lieutenant  W.  L. 
Brake,  R.N.,  of  the  Priory,  Wandswortb-road, 
22d  July. 

Mitchison,  William  Anthony,  Esq.,  of  Sunbury,  to 
Harriett  Jane  Stovin,  daughter  of  Richard  Stovin 
Maw,  Esq.,  of  Ashford-house,  Middlesex,  and  of 
Withern,  Lincolnshire,  1st  July. 

Moffatt,  Cornelius  William.  Esq.,  M.A.,  of  the 
Middle  Temple,  son  of  William  Moffatt,  Esq., 
of  Weymouth,  to  Catherine,  second  daughter  of 
the  late  R.  F.  Roberts,  Esq.,  of  Burton  Brad- 
stock,  Dorset,  30th  June. 

Mogrid*e,  John,  Esq.,  of  Sinxonsbath,  Devonshire, 
to  Mary  Ann,  younger  daughter  of  the  late  Mr. 

William    Bowley,    of    Bishopsgate  street,    17th 

Murray,  John,  Esq.,  of  Albemarle-street,  London, 
to  Marion,  third  daughter  of  the  late  Alexander 
Smith,  Esq.,  of  Edinburgh,  6th  July. 

Napier,  John  Moore,  only  son  of  Major-General 
Win.  Napier,  C.B.,  to  Bessie  Henrietta,  youngest 
daughter  of  Major  Charles  Alexander,  R.  E.,  22nd 

Norton,  Thomas,  Esq.,  of  Shrewsbury,  only  son  of 
Francis  Ceilings  Norton,  Esq.,  to  Ellen,  only 
child  of  the  late  George  Humphreys,  Esq.,  of 
Newport,  Shropshire,  2Qth  June. 

Nunes,  John,  Esq.,  of  Croydon,  to  Grace  Isabella 
Le  Neve,  eldest  daughter  of  the  late  Peter  Le 
Neve  Forster,  Esq.,  of  Lenwade,  Norfolk,  22nd 

Ord,  Mark,  Esq.,  of  Hurworth-grange,  to  Eliza- 
beth Dixon,  daughter  of  T.  D.  Walker,  Esq.,  of 
Hurworth,  1st  July. 

Palmer,  Captain  N.  H.,  of  the  Emerald  Isle,  second 
son  of  Nathaniel  Palmer,  Esq.,  Recorder  of 
Great  Yarmouth,  to  Martha  Mealing,  eldest  dau. 
of  Robert  Mills,  Esq.,  of  that  city,  8th  July. 

Parker,  Charles  Abraham,  eldest  ton  of  George 
Parker,  Esq.,  Church-hill-house,  Handsworth, 
Staffordshire,  to  Fanny,  eldest  daughter  of  Grif- 
feth  Briscoe.Esq.,  Doncaster,  and  granddaughter 
of  the  late  Robert  Tomlin,  Esq.,  of  Edith  Wes- 
ton,  Rutland,  7th  July. 

Phillips,  Barnet  S.,  Esq.,  of  Chester-terrace,  Re- 
gent's-park,  to  Philippa,  daughter  of  Phillip 
Samuel,  Esq.,  of  Bedford- place,  2Qth  June. 

Pinney,  Francis, ,  Esq.,  of  Tyndwr  Llangollen,  to 
Dorothy,  fourth  daughter  of  Henry  Gisby,  Esq., 
of  Hollycurdane,  Thanet,  28Ch  June. 

Plowden,  Charles,  Esq.,  of  Florence,  to  Anne  Eliza, 
daughter  of  the  late  George  Bryan,  Esq.,  of 
Jenkinstown,  county  of  Kilkenny,  12th  July. 

Quicke,  John,  Esq.,  eldest  son  of  John  Quicke, 
Esq.,  of  Newton  St.  Cyres,  in  the  county  of 
Devon,  to  Mary  Elizabeth,  only  daughter  of  the 
late  Thomas  Wentworth  Gould,  Esq.,  of  Bath- 
ealton-court,  Somerset,  24th  June. 

Randolph,  the  Rev.  William,  third  son  of  the  Rev. 
Herbert  Randolph,  late  rector  of  Letcombe  Bas- 
sett,  Berks,  to  Anne,  the  widow  of  the  Rev.  Ed- 
mund Burke  Lewis,  late  rector  of  Toddington, 
Bedfordshire,  2Qth  June. 

Reece,  Robert,  Esq.,  jun.  of  Exeter  College,  Ox- 
ford and  of  the  Inner  Temple,  to  Louisa,  eldest 
daughter  of  Joseph  Kirkman,  Esq.,  Igth  July. 

Reynolds,  Charles  William,  Esq.,  late  Captain  in 
the  16th  Lancers,  to  Charlotte  Mary,  only  dau. 
of  the  Rev.  R.  P.  Butler,  24th  June. 

Robinson,  the  Rev.  Gilbert  William,  M.A.,  incum- 
bent of  Walmley,  Warwickshire,  to  Frances 
Sarah,  youngest  surviving  daughter  of  the  late 
Michael  Russell,  Esq.  of  Wimbledon,  14th  July. 

Routh,  Edward,  Esq.  of  Blackheath,  to  Elizabeth 
Skardon  Taylor,  only  daughter  of  the  late  Wil- 
liam Cress  Taylor,  Esq.,  of  Blackheath,  26th 

Rowland,  George,  Esq.,  of  Holly-lodge,  Heacham, 
Norfolk,  to  Eliza,  third  daughter  of  the  late  Rev. 
James  Wright,  rector  of  East  Harling  and  Hin- 
derclay,  in  the  same  county,  19th  June. 

Saunders,  Edward,  Esq.,  2nd  Dragoon  Guards, 
youngest  son  of  Richard  Saunders,  Esq.  of 
Largey,  county  of  Cavan,  to  Caroline,  second 
daughter  of  John  Weldale  Knollys,  Esq.  of  Read- 
ing, Berks,  29th  June. 

Scholey,  Alfred,  second  son  of  George  Scholey, 
Esq.,  to  Fanny,  second  daughter  of  George 
Baker,  Esq.,  both  of  Westbourne-terrace,  Hyde- 
park,  22»d  July. 

Scholfield,  Henry  Daniel,  M.D.,  of  Birkenhead,  to 
Myra  Caroline,  only  daughter  of  the  late  James 
Taylor,  Esq.,  Bombay  Civil  Service,  and  grand- 
daughter of  the  late  Major-General  R.  Lewis, 
15th  July. 

Hercombe,  Rupert  C,  Esq.,  of  Carlton  -  villas, 
Maida-vale,  to  Louisa,  third  daughter  of  William 




Henrj  Smith,  Esq.,  of  Kilburn  house,  Middlesex 

15th  July. 
Shruhsole,      John, 

youngest      son     of    William 

Shrubsole,  Esq.,  to  Sarah  Alicia  Eliza,  eldes 
daughter  of  C.  J.  Fenner,  Esq.,  of  Hampton 
wick,  Middlesex,  8th  July. 

Simmons,   Lieutenant- Colonel,    C.B.,    late   of  the  Watson,  the   Rev.   Thomas  M.A.,    of  Caius   Col- 

41st   Regiment,  to  Frances,  relict  of  Alexander 

Munro,  of  Trinidad,   and  eldest  daughter  of  J 

Townshend  Pasea,  of  Streatham-lodge,  8th  July. 
Skinner,  Captain   H.,  of  the  Nizam's   Cavalry,  to 

Rose  Ann,  eldest  daughter  of  Samuel  Cardozo, 

Esq.,  of  Redruth,  Cornwall,  12th  July. 
Slous,  Angiolo  Robson,  Esq.,  to   Emily,  youngest 

daughter  of  John  Sherborn,  Esq.,  of  Ladbroke- 

square,  6th  July. 
Smith,    Willia-n,   Esq.,  of  Blandford,   to    Sophia, 

eldest  daughter  of  the  late  John  Whittle,  Esq., 

15th  June. 
Smith,   William  Hornsby,  eldest  son  of  the   late 

Charles  Smith,    of  Milton  next    Sittingbourne, 

Kent,  to  Bridget  Lavinia  Cottenburgh,  daughter 

of   the   late   John    Llanwarne,    Esq.,    and   Mrs. 

Lynch,  of  Somerset-street,  Portman  square,  20th 

Stafford,   William   Jones,   Esq.,   of    Liverpool,   to 

Sophia   Farrington,   only  daughter    of  the   late 

Dr.  Nagle,  R.N.,  23rd  May. 
Street,   James,  C.,  Esq.  of  Milton-street,  Dorset- 

Barkshire  Street,  Esq.,  Chichester,  Sussex,  to 
Bessie,  eldest  daughter  of  the  late  George  Smith, 
Esq.,  of  Salisbury,  7th  July. 

Taylor,  Skinner,  Esq.,  eldest  son  of  the  late  Wm. 
Taylor,  Esq.,  of  Brixton-place,  in  the  county  of 
Surrey,  to  Anne  Jenner  Buss,  of  Maidstone,  in 
the  county  of  Kent,  spinster,  10th  July. 

Tillard,   the;  Rev.  Richard  H.,  of  St.  John's  Col- 

Waller,  James,  Esq.  of  Eliza,  eldest  dau. 

of  Joseph    King   Blundell,    Esq.,   of   the    same 

place,  21st  July.  , 

Ware,  Samuel,  Esq.,  of  Fitzroy-square,  to  Isabella, 

second  daughter  of  the  late  Lancelot  Hare,  M.D. 

of  Upper  Gower-street,  1st  July. 

lege,  Cambridge,  and  assistant  chaplain  in  the 
Hon.  East  India  Company's  Service,  to  Caro- 
line, third  daughter  of  the  late  Francis  Gibbes, 
Esq.,  of  Harewood,  8th  July. 

Watson,  John,  Esq.,  of  Trinity  Hall,  Cambridge, 
younger  son  of  the  late  Richard  Watson,  Esq., 
of  Lutterworth,  in  the  county  of  Leicester,  to 
Anne,  second  daughter  of  Charles  Blayney  Trevor 
Roper,  Esq.,  of  Plas  Teg-park,  in  the  county  of 
Flint,  2-lth  June. 

Weller,  Charles  Grainger,  Esq.,  son  of  Captain 
Weller  of  Leisham,  to  Lucy  Harriett,  eldest  dau. 
of  William  Mellet  Hollis,  Esq.,  of  the  same  place, 
15th  July. 

Whitworth,  the  Rev.  T.,  rector  of  Addlethorpe,  and 
vicar  of  Thorpe,  Lincolnshire,  to  Emma,  young- 
est daughter  of  the  late  John  Pulley,  Esq.,  of 
Bedford,  17th  June, 

Wilkinson,  Alexander,  fourth  son  of  the  late  James 
Wilkinson,  Esq.,  of  Leadenhall-street,  to  Caro- 
line Stewart,  only  daughter  of  the  late  John 
Lamb,  Esq.,  of  Edinburgh,  17th  July 

square,   London,  eldest  son   of  the   late  James  Wilians,  O.,  Esq.,  jun.,  of  Askitt-hill,  Roundhay 

near  Leeds,  to  Elizabeth,  eldest  daughter  of 
William  Tetley,  Esq.,  of  Asenby  -  lodge,  near 
Thirsk,  14th  July. 

Willes,  Charles  Thomas,  Esq.,  fourth  son  of  the 
late  Rev.  Wm.  Snippen  Willes,  of  Astrop  house, 
county  of  Northampton,  to  Mary  Patience,  second 
daughter  of  the  Rev.  Henry  Wise,  of  Off  church, 
and  the  Priory,  Warwick,  20th  July. 

lege,    Cambridge,    to  Anna,  second  daughter  of  Willock,  the  Rev.  Charles  Wm.,  of  Balliol  College, 
the   Rev.   Joseph   Cotterill,  rector  of  Blakeney,       Oxford,   son   of   the   late   A.  C.  Willock,   Esq., 

Royal  Artillery,  to  Maria,   daughter  of  Richard 
Gosiing,  Esq.,  of  North  Cray,  23rd  June. 

24th  June. 
Towgood,  John,  Esq.,  of  Chancery-lane,  barrister- 

at-law,  to  Mary  Philips,  daughter  of  Mr.  Robert 
Rickards,  of  Chiswell-street,  Finsbury-  square, 
8th  July. 

Vaimer,  Charles  Auguste  Pinon  Duclose  de,  only 
son  of  the  Vicomte  de  Vaimer,  of  La  Barre, 
France,  and  of  Ozleworth-park,  Gloucestershire, 
to  Julia  Eliza,  only  child  of  Thomas  JBurslem, 

f  Esq.,  and  step  daughter  of  Benjamin  Jackson, 
late  of  Youghal,  21st  July. 

Varden,  Richard,  Esq.,  Civil  Engineer,  of  Worces- 
ter, to  IClizabeth  Susannah,  only  daughter  of  T. 
P.  Medwin.  Esq.,  of  Stourbridge,  8th  July. 

Villiers  W.  G.  Villiers,  eldest  son  of  the  late  G. 
W.  Villiers  Villiers,  to  Norah  Frances  Sheridan 
Power,  youngest  daughter  of  the  late  Tyrone 
Power,  Esq.,  30th  June. 

Wilts,  the  Venerable  the  Archdeacon  of,  to  Frances 
Laura,  daughter  ^of  the  late  W.  Dawson,  Esq., 
of  Wakefield,  Yorkshire,  20th  July. 

Wolley,  William  F.,  Esq.,  to  Jane,  eldest  daughter 
of  the  late  Henry  Coape,  Esq.,  21st  June. 

Wright,  Edward,  Esq.,  of  Kennington,  only  son  of 
Charles  Wright,  Esq.,  to  Rose  Mary,  youngest 
daughter  of  Thomas  Trew,  Esq.,  of  Woburn- 
place,  and  Newark-house,  St.  Peter's,  Thanet, 
17th  July. 

Yates,  William,  Esq.,  of  Lincoln's-inn,  to  Mary 
Cowlard,  eldest  surviving  daughter  of  the  late 
James  Arundell,  Esq.,  and  niece  of  the  late 
William  Whitton,  Esq.,  of  Stonewall,  Kent,  1st 


Alexander,  Louisa  Augusta,  daughter  of  thej 
late  Lesley  Alexander,  Esq.  of  Newtown 
Limvaddy,  co.  Londonderry,  at  Neuwied, 
on  the  Rhine,  26th  June. 

Allan,  Captain  Robert,  formerly  of  Calcutta, 
at  No.  47,  Brompton  crescent,  in  the  60th 
year  of  his  age,  30th  June. 

Alston,  Mrs.  James,  of  Bryanston  square, 
1st  July. 

Anderton,  Lieutenant  W.  F.  of  the  9th 
Lancers,  eldest  son  of  Captain  Anderton, 
late  of  the  1st  Life  Guards,  on  board  the 
Glendaragh,  on  his  passage  from  Calcutta 
to  England,  16th  March. 

Askew,  Lieut.-General  Sir  Henry,  C.B. 
This  gallant  officer  died  on  the  25th  June, 
at  Cologne,  in  his  73rd  year,  having  bet  n 
born  7th  May,  1775.  He  was  third  son, 



l>y  Bridget,  his  wife,  daughter  and  heiress 
of  John  Watson,  Esq.  of  Goswick,  co. 
Durham,  of  the  late  John  Askew,  Eeq 
of  Pallinsburn,  fourth  son  of  Dr.  Adam 
Askew,  of  Storrs  Hall,  and  succeeded  to 
the  representation  of  this  branch  of  the 
Askews  of  Redheugh,  co.  Durham,  on  the 
decease  of  his  elder  brother  in  1838.  Sir 
Henry  entered  the  army,  as  Ensign  in  the 
1st  Foot,  in  1793,  and  served  in  Holland 
and  Flanders,  Sicily,  the  Mediterranean, 
the  Expedition  to  Walchercn  in  1809; 
and  in  the  Peninsula  and  South  of  France 
from  1812  to  1814.  He  participated  in 
the  brilliant  operations  of  1815,  was 
•wounded  at  Quatre  Bras,  and  received  a 
Waterloo  Medal,  as  well  as  one  for 
services  at  Nive.  He  was  knighted  in 
1 821,  and  attained  the  rank  of  Lieut  enanj- 
General  in  1837. 

Aspinall,  James,  Esq.  This  highly  respect 
able  gentleman  was  a  member  of  the  Cor 
poration  of  Liverpool,  and  had  filled  the 
office  of  Mayor  of  that  important  town 

He  was  also  a  magistrate  for  the  county 
of  Lancaster.  The  death  of  Mr.  Aspinal 
was  awfully  sudden.  While  in  Vauxhal 
Gardens  on  the  night  of  Thursday  the 
17th  June,  with  a  party  of  friends,  he  fel 
down  and  at  once  expired.  The  cause 
was  apoplexy,  brought  on  no  doubt  ty 
his  excessive  corpulency.  Mr.  Aspinall 
though  only  forty-two  years  of  age  at  hi 
decease,  weighed  21,  stone. 
Badderston,  Elizabeth,  relict  of  Thoma 
Francis  Badderston,  Esq.  late  of  Baddon 
Lodge,  Essex,  aged  50.  26th  June. 
Baker,  Louisa,  second  daughter  of  the  lat 
Sir  Robert  Baker,  Bart,  of  Dunstab! 
house,  Richmond,  Surrey,  aged  54,  20tl 

Barclay,  Louisa,  youngest  dau.  of  Rober 
Barclay,  Esq.  of  Lombard  street,  banker 
at  Leyton,  Essex,  aged  13,  4fh  July. 
Barlow,  Capt.  Frederick,  late  of  the  61s 

Regiment,  aged  37,  8th  July. 
Barton,  Anne,  wife  of  James  Barton,  Esq. 
of  Buenos  Ayres,   South   America,   and 
daughter   of  the   late  John    Mackinlay, 
Esq.  at  Edge-hill,  Liverpool,  6th  July/ 
Barwise,  Lieut.  John,  Madras  Artillery,  at 

Octacamund,  aged  23,  15th  May. 
Bazalgette,  Frances,  widow  of  L.  Bazalgette, 
Esq.  late  of  Eastwick-park,  co.  Surrey, 
at  her  residence  in  Gloucester  -  place, 
Portman  square,  in  her  79th  year,  3rd 

Bedwell,  Percivnl,  Esq.  of  the  Registrar's- 
office  of  the  High  Court  of  Chancery, 
suddenly,  aged  38,  29th  July. 
Bell.George  Joseph,  M.B.  Balliol;  K.C.L.S. 
Radcliff  travelling  fellow  of  Oxford  ;  and 
Physician  to  Her  Majesty's  Mission  in 
Persia ;  second  son  of  the  late  Professor 
George  Joseph  Bell,  of  Edinburgh,  at 

Erzeroom,  on  his  way  from  Persia,  in  the 
34th  year  of  his  age,  20th  May. 

5ennett,Mary,  the  wife  of  Charles  Bennett, 
at  Stanhope-lodge,  Hyde-park,  in  her 
74th  year,  22nd  June. 

5erney,  Miss,  only  daughter  of  Thomas 
and  Elizabeth  Berney,  formerly  of  Bracon 
Ash,  Norfolk,  at  Bracon-hall,  25th  June. 
Bingley,  Robert,  Esq.  F.R.S.  at  Highara 
Lodge,  Woodford,  Essex,  aged  82,  17th 

Mshop,  Deputy- Assistant-Commissary-Gen- 
eral Alfred,  second  son  of  Sir  Henry 
Bishop,  at  Bermullet,  co.  Mayo,  Ireland, 
of  fever,  17th  June. 

31and.  Judith  Selina,  daughter  of  the  late 
T.  D.  Bland,  Esq.  of  Kippax-park,  at 
Hundhill.  near  Pontefract,  16th  July. 

Blunt,  Sir  Walter,  Bart.  13th  July. 

Bouchette,  Adelaide,  relict  of  the  late 
Colonel  Bouchette,  Her  Majesty's  Sur- 
veyor-General of  the  province,  at  Mon- 
treal, Canada,  10th  June. 

Boulton,  Hugh  William,  Esq.  of  the   1st 

Life  Guards,  second  son  of  the  late  Mat- 
thew Robinson  Boulton,  Esq.  of  Soho, 
Staffordshire,  and  Tew-park,  Oxfordshire, 
aged  25,  18th  July. 

Bouverie,  Charles,  only  son  of  the  late 
Charles  Henry  Bouverie,  Esq.  of  Oxford- 
house,  Great  Marlow,  at  Islington,  aged 
23,  9th  July. 

Brabazon,  William  John,  Esq.  of  Brabazon- 
park,  Mayo,  died  recently  at  Malta.  Mr. 
Brabazon  was  elder  son  of  Hercules 
Sharpe,  Esq.  of  Oaklands,  Sussex,  by 
Anne  Mary  his  wife,  eldestr  daughter  of 
the  late  Sir  Anthony  Brabazon,  Bart,  of 
Brabazon  Park,  co.  Mayo,  and  grandson 
of  Cuthbert  Sharpe,  Esq.  of  Sunderland, 
by  Susanna  his  wife,  sister  of  Brass 
Crosby,  M.  P.  for  Honiton,  the  distin- 
guished Lord  Mayor  of  London  in  1771, 
who  made  in  that  year  a  successful  strug- 
gle for  the  free  publication  of  the  parlia- 
mentary debates,  and  suffered  imprison- 
ment in  the  Tower  of  London.  Mr.  W. 
J.  Brabazon  changed  his  patronymic 
Sharpe  for  the  surname  of  Brabazon,  by 
royal  licence,  on  succeeding  to  the  estates 
of  his  uncle,  Sir  Wm.  John  Brabazon, 
Bart.  M.  P.  His  uncle,  Sir  Cuthbert 
Sharpe,  F.S.A.  is  an  eminent  antiquarian 

Brandon,  Joshua  J.  Esq.  late  of  Harley- 
street,  at  Paris,  23rd  June. 

Brodhurst,  Eleanor,  third  daughter  of  John 
Edward  Brodhurst,  Esq.  at  Crowbill, 
Mansfield,  25th  June. 

Bull,  the  Rev.  John  Garwood,  A.B.  vicar 
of  Godalming,  Surrey,  at  York,  aged 
55,  8h  July. 

Butler,  Cornelius  Haynes,  Esq.  of  Ingate- 
stone,  Essex,  aged  35,  28th  June. 

Buttaushaw,  Major  W.  late  of  the  Bengal 



Army,  at  Lee-park,   Blackheath,  in   the 
56th  year  of  his  age,  17th  June. 
Buxton,  Charles,    Esq.   at    Bellfield,  near 

Weymouth,  aged  88,  16th  July. 
Cambridge,  Charles  Owen,  Esq.  of  Whit- 
minster-house,  co.  Gloucester,  in  his  95th 
year,  29th  June. 

Capel,  Lady  Caroline.  This  lady,  who 
died  on  the  9th  July,  aged  74,  was  eldest 
sister  of  the  present  Marquis  of  Anglesey, 
being  daughter  of  Henry,  first  Earl  of 
Uxbridge,  by  Jane  his  wife,  daughter  of 
the  Very  Rev.  Arthur  Champagne,  Dean 
of  Clonmacnoise.  Her  ladyship  married 
2nd  April,  1792,  the  Hon.  John  Thomas 
Capel,  son  of  the  fourth  Earl  of  Essex, 
and  was  left  a  widow  in  1819  with  three 
sons  and  eight  daughters  ;  the  eldest  of 
the  former  succeeded  to  the  hereditary 
honours  of  his  family  at  the  decease  of 
his  uncle  in  1839,  and  is  the  present 
Earl  of  Essex. 

Cardew,  Harriet,  wife  of  Captain  Cardew, 
74th  Highlanders,  and  eldest  daughter  ol 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Fenwick,  Royal  En- 
gineers, at  Glasgow,  aged  25,  13th  June. 
Also,  a  few  hours  previously,  Thomas 
Howard,  infant  son  of  the  above  Captain 
and  Harriett  Cardew. 

Chambers,  Emma  Catherine,  relict  of  Davicl 
Chambers,  Esq.  and  daughter  of  the  late 
John  Weyland,  Esq.  of  Woodeaton,  Ox- 
fordshire, in  Glocester-terrace,  Regent's- 
park,  in  her  66th  year,  18th  June. 
Chambers,  Mary,  only  daughter  of  the  late 
Rev.  Thomas  Chambers,  aged  61,  12th 
Cheere,  Mrs.  Emma,  at  Montague-square 

29th  June. 

Chisholm,  Mrs.   Susanna  Stewart,  wife  oi 
Alexander  Chisholm,   Esq.    artist,    17th 
.  June. 

Clarke,  his  Excellency  Andrew,  Esq.  K.H 
at  Government-house,  Perth,  Westerr 
Australia,  Governor  and  Commander-in 
Chief  of  that  colony,  and  late  Lieutenant 
Colonel  in  the  40th  Regiment,  aged  54 
llth  Feb. 

Clayton,  Michael,  Esq.  of  Lincoln's  Inn 
and  Charlwood  Park,  Surrey,  aged  53 
llth  July. 

Coates,  Henry,  Esq.  of  dysentery,  at  Per 
nambuco;  having  landed  at  that  port  three 
days  previously  from  H.M.  packet.  Swift 
during  nearly  30  years  an  eminent  medi 
cal  practitioner  in   Rio  de  Janeiro    4t 
Cogswell  the  Rev.  William,  A.M.  at  Hali 

fax.  Nova  Scotia,  aged  37,  5th  June. 
Colquit,     Rear-Admiral,     at    Bishopstoke 

aged  61,  10th  July. 

Cooper,    Jane,     third    daughter    of    John1 
Cooper,  Esq.  of  Her  Majesty's  Ordnance, 
at  the  Tower,  5th  July. 
Cotes,  Thomas  Durell,   Esq.  of  Bath,  a<"jd 
55,  20th  July. 

>owdy,  Lieutenant  John  Craven  Lewis, 
36th  Native  Infantry,  Madras  Presidency, 
son  of  Captain  Crowdy,  R.N.  of  cholera, 
after  a  short  illness,  at  Dieppe,  20th  July. 

!!unliffe,  Jane  Hall,  the  wife  of  John  Cun- 
liffe,  jun  Esq.  and  youngest  daughter  of 
the  late  John  Woodburne,  Esq.  Thurston- 
ville,  Lancashire,  at  Bank-parade,  Pres- 
ton, 3rd  July. 

Curtis,  George  Rix,  Esq.  late  of  Gainsbo- 
rough, Lincolnshire,  at  Bruges,  in  Bel- 
gium, in  the  69th  year  of  his  age,  2oth 

Dalzell,  Sarah,  relict  of  the  late  John  Tho- 
mas Robert  Dalzell,  Esq.  at  Wallingford, 
Berkshire,  in  the  83rd  year  of  her  age, 
llth  July. 

Daniel,  G.  R.  Esq.  Q.C.  of  Landsdown- 
place,  Cheltenham,  and  co.  Westmeath, 
Ireland,  in  London,  19th  June. 

Dansey,  James  Cruikshank,  Esq.  of  Great 
Milton,  Oxfordshire,  eldest  son  of  Colonel 
Dansey,  C.B.  at  Ryde,  in  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  in  his  30th  year,  18th  July. 

iDelafosse,  Margaret  Teresa,  eldest  surviving 
daughter  of  the  late  Major  Henry  Dels- 
fosse,  C.B.  of  the  Bengal  Artillery,  and 
Principal  Commissary  of  Ordnance,  after 
a  few  days'  illness,  at  Marlborough,  in 
the  18th  year  of  her  age.  17th  June. 

Dewdney,  the  Rev.  Edmund,  incumbent  of 
St.  John's  Chapel,  Portsea,  at  Florence, 
18th  June. 

Dobinson,  Joseph,  Esq.  Ensign  in  the  15th 
Madras  Native  Infantry,  youngest  son  of 
Joseph  Dobinson,  Esq.  of  Egh  am -lodge, 
Egham,  Surrey,  at  Bangalore,  in  the 
20th  year  of  his  age,  28th  April. 

Donne,  Thomas,  Esq.  of  Welch  Street, 
Donatts,  co.  Glamorgan,  10th  June. 

Douglas,  Colin,  Esq.  of  Maino,  Lieut.  R.N. 
at  Aberdeen,  16th  July. 

Downes,  Matilda  Granville,  youngest  ciau. 
of  the  late  Major  Charles  and  Frances 
Downes,  of  Edinburgh,  at  West  Leigh, 
Havant,  Hants.  aged'l9,  25th  June. 

Du  Cane,  Alice,  the  only  surviving  daughter 
of  the  late  Major  Du  Cane,  of  the  20th 
Light  Dragoons,  at  Witham,  Essex,  after 
a  short  illness,  in  the  24th  year  of  her  age, 
17th  June. 

Dunlop,  Margaret,  relict  of  the  late  James 
Dunlop,  Esq.  of  Glasgow,  17th  June.* 

Dupuis,  Seymour,  eldest  son  of  the  Rev. 
Charles  Dupuis,  Rector  of  Brixton,  co. 
Warwick,  drowned  off  the  Lizard,  aged 
18,  7th  July. 

Edgeworth,  Major  Thomas,  formerly  of  the 
35th  Regiment,  at  Hawthorne,  Berks, 
20th  July. 

Egan.  Alice,  relict  of  the  late  Edward  Egan, 
l£gq.  at  St.  John's  Wood,  6th  July. 

Ewart,  Eliza,  daughter  of  Colonel  Cheney, 
C.B.  and  relict  of  the  late  John  Ewart, 
Esq.  of  Liverpool,  at  Deesin's  Hotel, 
Calais,  2nd  July. 



Fallow,  the  Rev.  T.  M.  Incumbent  of  St 
Andrews,  Marylebone,  16th  July. 

Fisher,  Susanna,  second  daughter  of  the  late 
Captain  Peter  Fisher,  R.N.  of  Walmer 
Kent,  at  Newport,  Barnstaple,  Devon,  o 
consumption,  3rd  July. 

Fitchett,  Stephen,  Esq.  of  Fareham,  aged 
86,  25th  June. 

Forbes,  Caroline  Maria,  wife  of  Robert 
Forbes,  Esq.  and  daughter  of  Charles 
Rooke,  Esq.  of  Westwood-house,  Essex 
in  Glocester-place,  Portman-square,  4th 

Forbes,  Mrs.  relict  of  the  late  Capt.  Robert 
Forbes,  aged  87,  10th  July. 

Forester,  Sophia,  relict  of  the  Rev.  Henry 
Forester,  late  of  Fifehead,  Dorsetshire,  a* 
Fareham,  Hampshire,  in  the  86th  year  o 
her  age,  28th  June. 

Foster,  John,  Esq.  at  Beaumont-close 
Biggleswado,  aged  83,  7th  July. 

Frankland,  Harry  Albert,  naval  cadet  o: 
Her  Majesty's  ship  Alarm,  on  board  Her 
Majesty's  steam-sloop  Hermes,  off  Vera 
Cruz,  of  yellow  fever,  in  the  17th  year  of 
his  age,  9th  May. 

Gaff,  Major  John,  late  of  the  76th  Regiment, 
at  Pimlico,  aged  70,  25th  June. 

Galloway,  Jannett,  only  daughter  of  the 
late  Thomas  Galloway,  Esq.  aged  64, 
15th  July. 

Gamier,  Brownlow  North,  second  son  of  the 
late  Rev.  William  and  Lady  Harriett 
Garnier,  of  Rookesbury,  Hants,  at  St. 
Margaret's,  near  Tichfield,  in  his  44th 
year,  28th  June. 

Gibson,  Thomas,  Esq.  at  Putney,  aged  29. 

Gilbert,  William,  Esq.  at  Cranbrook,  Kent, 
aged  71,  19th  July. 

Gil  pin,  Ellen,  wife  of  the  Rev.  Bernard 
Gilpin,  jun.  of  Aldborough,  Yorkshire, 
and  the  eldest  daughter  of  James  Kendle, 
Esq.  at  Weasenham,  Norfolk,  in  the  35th 
year  of  her  age,  15th  July. 

Gosset,  the  Rev.  Thomas  Stephen,  M.A. 
one  of  the  senior  fellows  of  Trinity  Col- 
lege, Cambridge,  at  his  residence,  Corn- 

Hamilton,  John,  youngest  son  of  Major 
John  Hamilton,  late  of  the  77th  Regiment 
of  Foot,  at  the  residence  of  his  father,  6, 
Camden-street  North,  Camden- town, aged 
14  years,  9th  July. 

Hammack,  Arthur  Wellesley,  youngest  son 
of  John  George  Hammack,  Esq.  of  Essex- 
house,  Bow-road,  in  his  20th  year,  19th 

Hanmer,  Sarah  Serra,  wife  of  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Hanmer,  the  only  child  of  the 
late  Sir  M.  Ximenes,  of  Bear-place,  Berks, 
in  Devonshire-place,  29th  June. 

Hardcastle,  the  Rev.  C.  of  fever,  at  Water- 
ford,  1st  July. 

Harden,  John,  Esq.  of  Crea,  King's  County, 
Ireland,  at  Miller-bridge,  near  A  mbleside, 
in  the  76th  year  of  his  age,  1st  July. 
Mr.  Harden,  only  son  of  William  Harden , 
Esq.  of  the  county  of  Tipperary,  by  Jane 
his  wife,  daughter  and  coheir  of  Joseph 
Webster,  Esq.  of  Crea,  King's  County, 
was  6.  7th  March,  1772,  and  m.  1st  Jan. 
1803  Jessie,  2nd  dau.  of  the  late  Robert 
Allan,  Esq.  Banker,  of  Edinburgh,  by 
whom  he  has  left  issue ;  Robert  Allan, 
late  of  the  Madras  Native  Infantry  ; 
Joseph  Webster,  MA.  Vicar  of  Condover ; 
John  William,  Judge  of  the  County 
Court  at  Warrington  ;  and  two  daughters. 

Harman,  Anna  Maria  Brisco,  second  dau. 
of  John  Harman,  Esq.  of  Sussex-square, 
18th  July. 

Harrison,  R.  Esq.  Barrister-at-Law,  at 
Twickenham,  12th  July. 

Hart,  Major  Lockyer  Willis,  22nd  Regiment 
B.  N.  I.  at  Paris,  in  the  43rd  year  of  his 
age,  27th  June. 

Harvey,  William  Gilmore,  Esq.  formerly  of 
Battle,  Sussex,  at  his  residence,  North- 
end,  Fulham,  in  his  89th  year,  28th  June. 

Sawkes,  Elizabeth,  relict  of  Robert  Hawkes, 
Esq.  of  Norwich,  2nd  July. 

:lenville;  Grace,  wife  of  Charles  B.  Henville, 
Esq.  of  Winterborne,  Dorset,  aged  36, 
llth  July. 

ley  wood,  Anne,  relict  of  the  late  Nathaniel 

wall-terrace,  Regent's-park,  in  his  57th 

year,  22nd  July. 
Gunner,  William  John,  Esq.  second  son  of 

R.  W.   Gunner,  (Esq.  of  Enfield  Lock,  j 

aged  20,  25th  June. 
Hall,  Lucy,  the  wife  of  Lieutenant-Colonel 

Jasper  Hall,  and  eldest  daughter  of  the 

late  William  Alves,  Esq.  of  Enham-house,  | 

Hants,  at  Biebrich,  on   the   Rhine,  30th 

June.  jHigham,  R.  P.  Esq.  at  Eltham-place,  Lee 

Hall,  Jessie,  relict  of  the  late  James  Stuart  j      Green,  Kent,  aged  67,  23rd  June. 

Hall,  Esq.  of  Bittern  Manor,  Hants,  llth  Hindley,  Susan,  the  younger  daughter  of 

Heywood,  Esq.  and  daughter  of  the  late 
Thomas  Percival,  M.D.  F.R.S.  at  Acres- 
field,  near  Manchester,  in  the  80th  year 
of  her  age,  13th  June. 
Hicks,  William  Frederick,  Esq.  Ceylon 
Civil  Service,  second  son  of  George  Hicks, 
Esq.  formerly  of  Somerset-street,  Port- 
man-square, at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope, 
aged  26,  29th  April. 

Hamilton,  Robert,  Esq.  of  Norwood,  aged 

72,  14th  July. 
Hamilton,  Jessie,  wife 

of  T.  M.   M'Niell 

Hamilton,  Esq.  of  Raploch,  Lanarkshire. 
N.  B.  in  Hamilton,  aged  21,  2fith  June. 

Charles  Hindley,  Esq.  M.P.  at  Brighton, 

aged  12  years,  21st  June. 
Hoare,  Mrs.   Charles,  at  Maidstone,  aged 

57,  29th  June. 
Holbech,  Edward,  Esq.  late  of  the   Innis- 

killen  Dragoons,  24th  June. 



Hollingwo^h,  Francis,  Esq.  at  West  Hack- 
ney, 14th  July. 

Horden,  Henry  William,  Esq.  at  Stamford, 
aged  25,  23rd  June. 

Horsford,  Amelia,  wife  of  the  Hon.  Paul 
Horsford,  member  of  her  Majesty's  Coun- 
cil of  Antigua,  at  Marine-place,  Dover, 
in  the  79th  year  of  her  age,  2nd  July. 

Howes,  John  Baron,  the  eldest  son  of  John 
Baron  Howes,  Esq.  of  Irthlingborough- 
grange,  Northamptonshire,  accidentally 
drowned  in  the  river  near  that  place,  aged 
16  years,  1st  July. 

Hudleston,  Harriet,  wife  of  Lieut.-Col.  R 
Hudleston,  H.E.I.C.  and  second  dau.  of 
the  late  Rev.  Samuel  Farewell,  of  Hole- 
brock-house,  Somerset,  at  Ramsgate,  after 
a  lingering  illness,  22nd  June. 

Husband,  Thomas,  Esq.  at  Devonport,  for 
many  years  a  banker  and  magistrate  of 
that  town,  and  one  of  Her  Majesty's  jus- 
tices of  the  peace  for  the  county  of  Devon, 
aged  86,  16th  July. 

Jeaffreson,  Mrs.  John,  at  Islington,  aged 
65,  29th  June. 

Kelly,  Dr.  of  Parsonstown,  14th  July. 
This  gentleman  was  a  very  eminent  phy- 
sician, and  for  a  long  series  of  years  en- 
joyed one  of  the  most  extensive  practices 
in  the  central  part  of  Ireland.  His  skill 
in  cases  of  midwifery  was  universally  ac- 
knowledged. Dr.  Kelly,  however,  was 
not  famed  for  knowledge  alone ;  his  cha- 
rity, benevolence,  and  hospitality,  had 
obtained  him  general  regard  and  affection. 
The  residence  of  Dr.  Kelly  was  at  Par- 
sonstown, in  the  King's  County,  a  place 
of  continual  resort  to  travellers,  in  conse- 
quence of  being  the  locality  of  Lord 
Rosse's  wonderful  telescope.  Visitors 
thither  will  have  cause  to  regret  the  Doc- 
tor's death,  for  at  his  social  and  intel- 
lectual home  many  a  stranger  met  a  cor- 
dial and  agreeable  welcome.  Indeed 
there  are  stories  told  on  good  authority 
of  how,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  the 
worthy  Doctor  being  called  to  travellers 
taken  ill  at  the  inn  in  his  town,  has  in- 
vited them  to  his  house,  and  never  allowed 
them  to  depart  until  he  restored  them  to 
health  ;  on  such  occasions  he  refused  all 
pecuniary  reward  for  his  services,  as  he 
then  esteemed  the  patients  his  guests. 
Dr.  Kelly  died  at  Parsonstown,  after  a 
short  illness,  at  a  very  advanced  age.  He 
leaves  behind  him  a  numerous  family. 
One  of  his  sons  is  Edmund  Meares  Kelly, 
Esq.  a  member  of  the  Irish  bar,  and  the 
author  of  a  well-known  work  on  the  law 
relating  to  Scire  Facias. 

Kelly,  Captain  Waldron  Barrs,  Staff  Officer 
of  Pensioners,  and  late  of  the  22nd  Regt. 
youngest  son  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Kelly, 
of  Tilbury  Fort,  at  Sligo,  Ireland,  of 
fever,  12th  July. 

Lane,  Emma,  eldest  daughter  of  Brevet 
Lieut.  Colonel  John  Theophilus  Lane, 
C.B.,  of  the  Bengal  Artillery,  and  grand- 
daughter of  the  late  Commissioner  Lane, 
of  the  Royal  Navy,  in  her  2 1  st  year,  at 
Paris,  on  the  16th  July. 

Lanesborough,  Earl  of,  Brinsley  Butler, 
fourth  Earl  of  Lanesborough,  died  re- 
cently, at  Brislington,near  Bristol.  His 
Lordship  was  only  surviving  son  of  Robt. 
Henry,  third  Earl,  by  Elizabeth,  his  wife, 
eldest  daughter  of  the  Right  Hon.  David 
La  Touche,  and  grandson  of  Brinsley, 
second  Earl  of  Lanesborough,  by  Jane, 
daughter  of  Robert,  first  Earl  of  Belve- 
dere. The  deceased  peer  was  born  22nd 
October,  3783,  and  had,  consequently, 
completed  his  64th  year.  Never  having 
married  he  is  succeeded  in  his  honours 
and  estates  by  his  cousin,  George  John 
Danvers  Butler  Danvers,  Esq.,  of  Surth- 
land  Hall,  Leicestershire,  now  fifth  Earl 
of  Lanesborough,  who  is  eldest  son  of  the 
late  Honourable  Augustus  Richard  But- 
ler, by  Elizabeth,  his  first  wife,  daughter 
and  heir  of  Sir  John  Danvers,  Bart.  The 
new  peer  was  born  in  1794,  and  married 
29th  August,  1815,  Frances  Arabella 
third  daughter  of  the  late  Colonel  Stephe, 
Freemantle.  The  noble  house  of  Lanen 
borough  was  founded  by  Sir  Stephen 
Butler,  Knt.,  who  settled  in  Ireland 
temp.  James  I.  He  was  one  of  the  un- 
dertakers for  the  plantation  of  the  pro- 
vince of  Ulster  ;  and,  having  obtained  - 
grant  of  two  thousand  acres  of  land  in  the 
county  Cavan,  erected  a  baronial  castle 
of  great  strength  there.  Sir  Stephen  and 
his  co-undertakers  of  the  precinct  of 
Loghtee  commenced,  according  to  their 
agreement,  the  plantation  of  a  town,  at 
Belturbet;  and,  in  his  time,  thirty-five 
houses  were  erected,  all  inhabited  by  Bri- 
tish tenants,  most  of  whom  were  trades- 
men, each  having  a  house  and  garden- 
plot,  with  four  acres  of  land,  and  com- 
mons for  a  certain  number  of  cattle. 

Lawford,  Rev.  John  Grant,  second  son  of 
the  late  William  Robinson  Lawford,  Esq. 
of  Leighton  Buzzard,  Bedfordshire,  at 
Brussels,  in  the  35th  year  of  his  age,  23rd 

Leahy,  David,  Esq.  Mr.  Leahy,  by  birth 
an  Irishman,  was  called  to  the  English 
bar  by  the  Hon.  Society  of  Gray's  Inn. 
The  learned  gentleman  joined  theWestern 
Circuit :  but,  though  in  some  practice, 
his  success  was  not  commensurate  with 
the  great  ability  he  undoubtedly  possessed. 
As  a  writer  on  literary,  political,  and  le- 
gal subjects,  Mr.  Leahy  was,  however,  ac- 
tively and  continually  employed ;  and  he 
was  esteemed  to  possess  such  deep  rooted 
forensic  and  constitutional  knowledge, 
that  he  was  chosen  as  one  of  the  counsel 


in  the  defence'  of  Mr.  O'Connell.  The 
soundness  of  his  arguments  on  that  occa- 
sion was  afterwards  recognised  by  the  judg- 
ment of  the  House  of  Lords.  The  vo- 
lume he  subsequently  published  relative 
to  the  trial  added  much  to  his  reputa- 
tion. On  the  recent  establishment  of  the 
Local  Courts,  Mr.  Leahy  was  appointed 
the  Judge  for  the  Greenwich  and  Lam- 
beth districts ;  and  it  is  much  to  be  la- 
mented that  he  has  been  snatched  away 
just  as  he  had  attained  that  position 
which  his  talents  entitled  him  to  hold. 
Mr.  Leahy  died  on  the  21st  June,  at  his 
Chambers,  in  Mitre-Court  buildings. 
The  demise  of  this  excellent  person  is  the 
subject  of  deep  regret  to  a  very  wide  cir- 
cle of  friends,  to  whom  his  high  social,  as 
well  as  mental  qualifications,  had  en- 
deared him. 

Littleton,  the  Hon.  Hiacinthe  Anna,  eldest 
dau.  of  Lord  Hatherton,  in  the  34th  year 
of  her  age,  10th  July. 

Lynch,  Dr.  Jordan  Roche,  of  Farringdon 
street.  Distinguished  for  his  advocacy  of 
Sanitory  Regulations,  24th  June. 

Macdonell,  Hugh,  Esq.,  fur  many  years 
British  Consul-General  at  Algiers,  at 
Florence,  on  the  3rd  June. 

Mac  Neill,  Catherine  Alicia  L.  J.  eldest 
surviving  dau.  of  Jane  Mac  Neil!  Hamil- 
ton, and  the  late  D.  H.  Mac  Neill  Ha- 
milton, Esq.  of  Newgrove,  county  Down, 
Ireland,  and  Raploch,  Lanarkshire,  N.B. 
aged  22,  on  the  19th  June. 

Maclean,  General  Sir  Fitzroy,  Bart.  This 
gallant  officer,  a  General  in  the  Army, 
and  Colonel  of  the  45th  Regiment  of 
Foot,  at  his  residence  in  Cadogan  place. 
Sir  Fitzroy  succeeded  to  the  Baronetcy 
and  the  Chieftainship  of  the  Macleans 
at  the  decease,  in  1818,  of  his  elder  bro- 
ther, Sir  Hector  Maclean.  He  was  twice 
married  :  first,  to  Mrs.  Bishop,  relict  of  J. 
Bishop,  Esq.  of  Barbadoes,  and  secondly. 
to  Frances,  widow  of  Henry  Champion, 
Esq.  of  Maling  Deanery,  Sussex.  By 
the  former  he  had  two  sons,  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Charles  Fitzroy  Maclean,  the 
present  Baronet  of  Morvaren  ;  and  Do- 
nald, of  the  Chancery  Bar,  late  M.P.  for 
Oxford.  Sir  Fitzroy  was  a  full  General, 
and  wore  a  medal  for  his  services  at  Gua- 
daloupe.  The  family,  of  which  he  was 
the  representative,  claimed  remote  anti- 
quity. Gaelic  Antiquaries  assert  that  its 
surname  was  originally  Mac  Gillian,  and 
that  it  was  derived  irom  the  celebrated 
Highland  warrior  Gillian,  who  was  deno- 
minated Gillian-ni-Tuoidh,  from  his  ordi- 
nary weapon,  a  battle  axe,  which  some  of 
his  descendants  wear  to  this  day  in  their 
crest,  betwixt  a  laurel  and  cypress  branch. 
He  died  on  the  5th  July. 

Murray,  Captain  James,  formerly  on  the 
Bengal  Establishment,  and  during  the 
last  twenty-eight  years,  superintendent  for 

the  London  district  of  the  recruiting  staff 
of  the  Hon.  East  India  Company,  at 
Quatre  Bras,  near  Dorchester,  in  his  67th 
year,  22nd  June, 

Nicholl,  Lieut.-Colonel  Edward,  late  of  the 
84th  Regiment  of  Foot,  in  which  he 
served  for  forty  years  in  the  East  and 
West  Indies,  as  well  as  in  various  other 
countries,  at  Adamsdown,  the  residence 
of  his  brother,  near  Cardiff,  in  his  7 1st 
yea-,  23th  June. 

O'Conor  Don,  M.P.  for  the  co.  of  Roscom- 
mon,  and  one  of  the  Lords  of  the  Trea- 
sury, of  disease  of  the  heart.  This  re- 
spected gentleman  was  born  in  May  1794, 
the  elder  son  of  the  late  Owen  O'Conor 
Don,  of  Belanagare  and  Clonalis,  by  Jane 
his  wife,  dau.  of  James  Moore,  Esq.  of 
Mount  Browne,  co.  Dublin.  He  married 
27th  August,  1824,  Mary,  dau.  of  Mau. 
rice  Blake,  Esq.  of  Tower  Hill,  co.  Mayo, 
and  has  left  two  sons,  and  five  daughters. 
Of  his  illustrious  ancestry,  we  have  given 
particulars  under  this  Month's  "  Frag- 
ments of  Family  History."  21st  July. 

Peacock,  Mary,  wife  of  Wilkinson  Peacock, 
Esq.  and  eldest  dau.  of  the  late  Colonel 
Affleck,  of  Cavendish  Hall,  Suffolk,  at 
Thorpe  Tylney,  Lincolnshire.  8th  July. 

Peters,  James,  jun.  Esq.  barrister_at-law, 
St.  John's,  eldest  son  of  the  Hon.  Chas. 
Jeffrey  Peters,  Her  Majesty's  Attorney 
General  for  the  province  of  New  Bruns 
wick,  at  the  residence  of  Robert  Bell,  Esq- 
Fountain-Bridge,  Edinburgh,  3rd  July. 

Phillips,  Mary  Anne  Hawkes,  wife  of  Phil- 
lip Loveil  Phil'ips,  Esq.  M.D.  of  fever,  at 
Arezzo,  in  Tuscany,  on  route  from  Rome 
to  Florence,  aged  33,  7lh  June. 

Pollock,  Sir  David,  Knt.  Chief  Justice  of 
Bombay,  in  May  last,  at  Bombay,  of  liver 
complaint,  after  a  sojourn  only  of  eight 
months  in  India,  where  he  was  appointed 
last  year  as  Chief  Judge  at  the  Presidency 
of  Bombay,  in  succession  to  Sir  Henry 
Roper.  Sir  David  Pollock  who  was  elder 
brother  of  Chief  Baron  Pollock,  of  Gene- 
ral Sir  George  Pollock,  and  of  Mr.  J.  H. 
Pollock,  was  born  in  1780,  and  educated 
at  Edinburgh  Collie.  In  1802,  he  wtss 
called  to  the  Bar,  and  for  many  years 
went  the  Home  Circuit.  Besides  parlia- 
mentary business,  in  which  at  one  time 
he  had  extensive  practice,  Sir  I>avid  Pol- 
lock devoted  considerable  time  to  the 
Insolvent  Debtor's  Court,  and  some 
three  or  four  years  ago  was  appointed  a 
Commissioner  of  that  Court,  which  he 
continued  to  fill  till  last  year,  he  was 
nominated  to  the  Chief  Justiceship  of 
Bombay,  in  succession  to  Sir  Henry 
Roper ;  and  few  judges  have  given  such 
universal  satisfaction  to  all  classes,  both 
Native  and  European,  or  become  so  re- 
vered even  in  a  short  sojourn  of  eight 
months  as  the  learned  gentleman.  Prayers 
were  offered  up  by  the  native  population 



for  his  restoration  to  health,  and  his 
funeral  which  took  place  on  the  22nd  was 
attended  by  the  Governor  of  Bombay, 
the  Coramander-in-Chief,  Sir  Erskine 
Perry,  the  Hon.  J.  P.  Willoughby,  the 
Advocate-General,  and  Dr.  Lark  worthy, 
as  pall-bearers,  besides  many  hundreds 
of  sorrowing  friends.  Sir  David  was  in 
his  68th  year,  was  a  Queen's  Coun- 
sel, and  a  Bencher  of  the  Middle  Temple, 

Qnillinan,  Mrs.  wife  of  Edward  Quillinan, 
Esq.  This  lady  was  the  author  of  a 
"  Journal  of  a  few  Months'  Residence  in 
Portugal,"  &c.  recently  published.  She 
died  of  a  rapid  decline,  at  Rydal  Mount, 
Ambleside,  at  the  house  of  her  father, 
William  Wordsworth,  Esq.  (the  laureate), 
9th  July. 

Radcliffe,  Mary,  dau.  of  John  Radcliffe, 
Esq.  of  Cheltenham,  IGth  June. 

Reay,  Lord,  after  a  short  illness,  aged  74,  on 
the  8th  July.  His  lordship,  who  died  at 
his  seat,  Goldings,  Herts,  was  eldest  son 
of  the  Hon.  George  Mackay,  of  Skibo, 
M. P.  Master  of  the  Mint  of  Scotland,  by 
Anne,  his  wife,  daughter  of  Eric  Suther- 
land, only  son  of  the  attaintedLord  Duffus, 
and  inherited  »the  family  honours  at  the 
decease  of  his  cousin.  Hugh,  sixth  Lord, 
in  1797.  He  was  never  married,  and  is, 
consequently,  succeeded  by  his  next  bro- 
ther, the  Hon.  Alexander  Mackay,  Bar- 
rack Master  at  Malta,  who  married,  in 
1809,  Mrs.  Ross,  widow  of  David  Ross, 
Esq.  of  Calcutta,  and  has  Eric,  and 
several  other  children.  The  very  ancient 
family  from  which  derived  the  nobleman 

'  whose  death  we  record  held  possessions  in 
the  north  of  Scotland  seven  centuries 
ago,  which  possessions  were  originally 
denominated  Strathnaver,  but  more  re- 
cently Lord  Reay's  country.  The  great 
influence,  however,  of  the  Mackays  may 
be  attributed  to  the  celebrated  Donald 
Mackay,  characterised  by  historians  as 
"  a  great  general,  and  a  wise  and  political 
gentleman."  This  personage  was  at  the 
battle  of  Solway  Moss,  and  returned  with 
the  King  to  Edinburgh  three  days  after 
the  conflict,  when  his  Majesty  bestowed 
upon  him,  in  requital  of  his  faithful 
services,  the  forfeited  lands  of  several 
individuals,  by  charter  dated  28th  Nov. 
1845.  Sir  Donald  Mackay,  of  Far,  the 
first  Lord  Reay,  was  a  distinguished  sol- 
dier of  his  time,  and  took  an  active  part 
during  the  ci  vil  war,  in  favour  of  Royalty ; 
but,  being  one  of  those  excepted  from 
pardon  in  the  treaty  between  the  Cove- 
nanters and  King  Charles,  he  was  obliged 
to  retire  to  Denmark,  where  he  died,  in 

Rudyerd,  Colonel  Samuel,  of  the  Royal 
Artillery,  at  the  residence  of  his  brother- 

in-law,  C.  Richardson,  Esq.  Field  House, 
Whitty,  Yorkshire,  19th  July.  This 
distinguished  officer,  who  served  most 
gallantly  under  the  Duke  of  Wellington 
in  all  his  campaigns  from  India  to  the 
plains  of  Waterloo,  descended  lineally 
from  the  anicent  family  of  Rudyard,  of 
Rudyerd.hall,  near  Leek,  in  Staifordshire, 
where  they  were  seated  long  before  the 
Conquest,  and  of  undoubted  Saxon 
origin,  and  was  connected  with  almost 
all  the  ancient  barons  and  nobility  of 
Great  Britain,  through  their  marriages 
with  the  Harringtons  of  Exton,  &c.,  &c. 
Colonel  Rudyerd  was  the  son  of  the  late 
General  Rudyerd,  of  the  Royal  Engi- 
neers, and  cousin  of  the  late  General  Sir 
Charles  Shepley,  of  the  same  corps, 
whose  mother,  Miss  Jane  Rudyerd,  who 
married  Captain  Richard  Shipley,  of 
Copt  hall,  Luton,  Beds,  became  heiress 
of  that  branch  of  the  family,  descending 
from  Sir  Benjamin  Rudyerd,  the  cele- 
brated poet  and  speaker  in  the  long  par 
liament,  who  was  the  last  surveyor  of 
the  court  of  wards  and  liveries)  upon  the 
death  of  her  only  brother  Captain  Benja- 
min Rudyerd,  of  the  Coldstream  Guards, 
aid-de  camp  to  Lord  Stair  at  the  battle 
of  Dettingen.  Colonel  Samuel  Rudyerd, 
whose  death  we  now  record,  being  a 
descendant  of  Benjamin  Rudyerd,  Esq., 
of  Westwoodhay,  in  Berks,  the  grand  son 
of  Benjamin  Rudyerd,  by  his  second 
marriage  with  Miss  Beaumont  of  York- 
shire ;  his  first  wife,  from  whom  the  late 
Sir  Charles  Shipley  descended,  having 
been  the  eldest  daughter  and  co-heiress 
of  Sir  Benjamin  Maddux  of  Worm  ley,  in 
Herts,  Bar  t. 

Slanev,  Eliz.wife  of  Robt.  A.  Slariey,  Esq., 
of  Walford-manor,  Shropshire,  aged  62, 
20th  July.  Mrs.  Slaney  was  only  child 
of  William  Hawkins  Muccleston,  M.D., 
and  sole  heiress  of  her  uncle,  Joseph, 
Muccleston,  Esq.  of  Walford,  High  She- 
riff of  Shropshire,  in  1788.  Her  mar- 
riage took  place  in  1812  :  and  its  issue 
was  three  daughters,  Elizabeth  Frances, 
wife  of  Thomas  Campbell  Eyton,  Esq., 
Mary,  m.  to  Wm.  Watkin  Edw.  Wynne, 
Esq.  of  Peniarth,  and  Frances  Caroline. 

Stopford,  Admiral,  the  Hon,  Sir  Robert, 
G.C.B.,  G.C.M.G.,  Vice-Admiral  of  the 
United  Kingdom  and  Governor  of 
Greenwich  Hospital,  in  the  80th  year  of 
his  age,  25th  June.  This  distinguished 
officer,  died  on  Friday  morning,  the  25th 
June,  at  Richmond,  Surrey,  whither  he 
had  removed  for  change  of  air.  He  was 
third  son  of  James,  second  Earl  of  Cour- 
town,  and  uncle  of  the  present  peer.  The 
deceased  admiral  was  born  in  1768. 
Entering  the  navy  at  an  early  age,  he 
served  as  midshipman  in  the  Prince 



George  in  Rodney's  actions,  and  obtained  j     Col.  Target,  at  Caen,  France,  24th  June. 

Tatham,  Mrs.  Sarah,  of  Bedford  Place,  4th 

his  commission  as  Lieutenant  in  1785. 
He  subsequently  commanded  succes. 
sively  the  Lowestoff",  the  Aquilon,  and 
the  Phaton,  under  Lords  Howe  and 
Cornwallis,  and  performed  many  gallant 
and  important  services  to  his  country. 
In  1803,  he  was  appointed  to  the  Spencer, 
and  was  employed  off  Ferrol  and  Co- 
runna  ;  the  following  year  he  was  nomi- 
nated Colonel  of  Marines;  and,  in  1806, 
participated  in  Sir  John  Duckworth's 
brilliant  action  off  St.  Domingo,  where 
he  was  severely  wounded.  Captain  Stop- 
ford's  next  service  was  in  the  Exhibition 
against  Copenhagen,  under  Admiral  Par- 
ker and  Lord  Nelson.  Having  been  ad- 
vanced to  the  rank  of  Rear- Admiral,  in 
1808,  he  was  appointed  to  command  the 
Channel  Fleet,  during  which  he  block- 
aded a  French  squadron  in  Aix  Roads ; 
for  which  exploit,  and  his  conduct  in  an 
attack  upon  the  enemy,  he  received  the 
thanks  of  parliament.  In  1810,  Admiral 
Stopford  was  nominated  to  the  command 
of  the  squadron  at  the  Cape.  Subse- 
quently, he  commanded  the  naval  forces 
at  the  capture  of  Java.  In  1813,  the 
gallant  officer  returned  to  England — was 
madeaK.C.B.  in  1815,  and  became  Full 
Admiral  in  1825>  and  a  G.C.B.  in  1831. 
Admiral  Stopford  continued  to  serve  his 
country  in  the  Mediterranean,  where  he 
held  the  naval  command  for  some  time,and 
was  engaged  at  the  capture  of  St.  Jean 
d'Acre,  in  1840.  For  his  services  on  this 
occasion  he  was  a  second  time  honoured 
with  the  thanks  of  parliament.  After 
retiring  from  the  command  in  the  Medi- 
terranean, Sir  Robert  was  appointed 
Governor  of  Greenwich  Hospital,  wl  ich 
office  he  held  up  to  the  time  of  his  de- 
cease. Besides  the  British  honours  con- 
ferred upon  the  gallant  Admiral,  he  re- 
ceived from  the  Emperor  Nicholas  the 


Temple,  Sir  Grenville,  formerly  Lieutenant 
Colonel  of  the  15th  Hussars,  died  at 
Constance,  in  Switzerland,  aged  48,  on  the 
7th  June.  He  was  the  eldest  son  of  the 
late  Sir  Grenville  Temple,  9th  Baronet, 
whose  father,  Sir  John  Temple,  succeeded 
to  the  title  in  1786,  at  the  decease  of  his 
kinsman,  Sir  Richard  Temple.  The 
Baronet  just  deceased  was  born  20th  July, 
1799,  married  5th  May,  J829,  Mary, 
daughter  of  George  Baring,  Esq.,  brother 
of  Lord  Ashburton,  by  whom  he  leaves  a 
large  family,  the  eldest  son  of  which  is  the 
present  Sir  Grenville  Leofric  Temple, 
Bart.,  an  officer  in  the  Royal  navy,  born 
in  1830.  The  ancient  family  of  Temple 
derives  its  surname  from  the  manor  of 
Temple,  co.  Leicester,  and  deduces  its 
descent  from  Leofric,  Earl  of  Chester, 
who  lived  in  the  reign  of  Edward  the 
Confessor.  The  Leofric  married  the 
celebrated  Godiva,  of  Coventry  notoriety, 
who  is  said  to  have  appeased  the  wrath 
of  her  offended  lord,  and  to  have  obtained 
a  restitution  of  privileges  for  the  good 
citizens  of  Coventry,  by  exhibiting  on 
horseback,  in  the  simple  habiliments  of 
Eve,  to  the  confusion  of  an  unlucky  knight 
of  the  needle,  whom  tradition  hath  stricken 
blind  for  presuming  to  peep.  Certain  it  is 
that  pictures  of  the  earl  and  his  countess 
were  set  up  in  the  south  window  of  Trinity 
Church,  in  that  ancient  city,  about  the 
reign  of  Richard  II.,  more  than  three 
centuries  after  the  occurrence  of  the 
supposed  event ;  his  Lordship  holding  a 
charter  in  the  right  hand,  with  the  words, 

I,  Lurick,  for  love  of  thee 
Do  set  all  Coventry  toll-free. 

And  there  is  still  a  yearly  procession  of  a 
naked  figure  observed  by  the  grateful 
citizens  on  Friday  after  Trinity  Sunday. 

Order  of  St.  George,  Second  Class;  from  Walker,   Reginald  John,  Esq.   a  Lieut,  in 

the  King  of  Prussia,  the  Grand  Cross  of 
the  Red  Eagle;  and  was  nominated  a 
Knight  Commander  of  the  Order  of  Maria ' 
Theresa,  in  1841.  Sir  Robert  Stopford 
married,  29th  June,  1809,  Mary,  dau. 
of  Robert  Fanshawe,  Esq.,  by  which  lady 

the  Bengal  Engineers,  and  Assistant  Sur- 
veyor in  the  great  trigonometrical  survey 
of  India.  He  was  the  fifth  son  of  the 
late  John  Walker,  Esq.  of  Purbrook-park, 
Hants,  at  Bernangora,  near  Darjeling,  in 
the  East  Indies,  aged  24, 24th  April. 

he  leaves  three  sons,  viz.— Robert  Fan-  Walton,  Mr.,   the  Stage  Manager  of  the 

shawe,  Captain  in  the  Navy;  James 
Jo:m,  also  a  Captain  in  the  Navy ;  and 
Arthur  Fanshawe;  and  several  daughters 
of  whom  the  eldest,  Christiana  Fanshawe, 
is  married  to  the  Rev.  William  F.  Doug- 
las, third  son  of  Sir  H.  Douglas,  Bart. ; 
and  the  third,  Henrietta  Maria,  is  widow 
of  Lord  Henry  Russell,  R.N.,  who  died 
in  1842. 

Stratton,  William,  Esq.  at  Aberdeen,  aged 
87,  13th  July. 

Target,   Madame  S.  M.  widow  of  the  late 

Princess'  Theatre,  and  an  actor  of  more 
than  ordinary  merit  there.  His  death, 
.  which  occurred  on  the  17th  instant,  hap- 
pened under  melancholy  circumstances. 
He  had  been  suffering  from  a  painful 
disease,  and  he  was  in  the  habit  of  taking 

x  laudanum  and  morphia  to  allay  the 
torment.  An  over  dose  proved  fatal  to 
him  :  he  died  in  his  48th  year. 

Yates.  John  Henry,  Esq.  at  Woburn- square, 
aged  37,  21st  June. 




THE  theory  of  the  law  is,  that  surnames,  like  air  or  light,  are  publici  juris, 
subjects  in  which  even  occupation  and  possession  do  not  give  exclusive 
property  ;  the  claim  to  bear  peculiar  cognizances  or  arms  was,  it  is  pro- 
bable, in  the  origin  of  the  practice,  similarly  regarded. 

The  assumption  or  change  of  a  surname  is  at  the  present  day,  and  has 
been  always,  notwithstanding  a  vulgar  notion  to  the  contrary,  a  matter 
of  common  law  right ;  nor  is  it  restricted  by  anything  but  the  potent  in- 
fluence of  public  opinion,  which  has  very  properly  always  attached  a 
certain  degree  of  discredit  to  any  attempt  to  confuse  identity,  or  oblite- 
rate the  traces  of  a  past  career.  Whenever,  therefore,  upon  just  cause  a 
British  subject  seeks  to  take  a  surname,  not  his  by  birth,  he  for  the  most 
part  does  so  by  adopting  a  course  in  itself  of  the  highest  notoriety ;  in 
other  words,  he  obtains  the  license  of  the  Crown,  which  is  gazetted  in 
due  form,  or  he  obtains  an  Act  of  Parliament. 

"  Welsh  families/'  says  Mr.  Grimaldi  *,  "  are  more-  known  by  their  arms 
than  by  their  names,  and  even  in  English  families,  many  persons  of  the 
same  house  can  only  now  be  classed  with  their  proper  families,  by  an 
inspection  of  the  arms  they  bore  on  their  seals,  shields,  and  the  like." 
So  in  the  popular  commotions  at  Florence,  the  cry  of  the  adherents  of 
the  Medici  was  taken,  not  from  the  surname  but  the  arms,  of  that  family, 
«  Palle,  Palle." 

At  first,  armorial  bearings  were  probably  like  surnames,  assumed 
by  each  warrior  at  his  free  will  and  pleasure  5  and  as  his  object  would 
be  to  distinguish  himself  and  his  followers  from  others,  his  cognizance 
would  be  respected  by  the  rest,  either  out  of  an  innate  courtesy  or  a 
feeling  of  natural  justice,  disposing  men  to  recognise  the  right  of  first 
occupation,  or  really  from  a  positive  sense  of  the  inconvenience  of  being 
identified  or  confounded  with  those  to  whom  no  common  tie  united  them  ; 
where,  however,  remoteness  of  stations  kept  soldiers  aloof,  and  extensive 
boundaries,  and  different  classes  of  enemies  from  without,  subdivided  the 
force  of  a  kingdom  into  many  distinct  bands  and  armies,  opportunities  of 
comparing  and  ascertaining  what  ensigns  had  been  already  appropriated 
would  be  lost,  and  it  well  might  happen,  even  in  the  same  country,  that 
various  families  might  be  found  unconsciously  using  the  same  arms. 

*  Origines  Genealogicee,  p.  82. 

VOL.     IV.    NO.    XVII.  Q, 


And  so  it  was  with  the  three  English  families  of  Car  mi  now,  Scrope,  and 
Grosvenor,  the  members  of  each  of  which  were  probably  ignorant  that 
there  were  any  rival  claimants  to  their  heraldic  honours,  until  by  the 
French  and  Scottish  wars  they  were  brought  together,  and  confronted 
upon  the  same  field  and  in  the  same  encampment. 

The  Court  of  Chivalry,  it  may  be  presumed,  offered  the  first  barrier  to 
a  party  assuming  the  martial  cognizances  of  another,but  the  assumption  of 
new  arms  by  one  who  never  before  had  borne  any,  received  its  first  check,  as 
far  as  we  know,  from  the  writ  of  Henry  V.,  which  regulated  coat  armour, 
and  prohibited  their  use,  except  where  justified  by  ancestral  right  and 
use,  (jure  antecessorio),  or  by  grants  from  competent  authority.  It 
appears  from  the  commencement  of  that  writ,  that  many  persons  had 
assumed  these  insignia,  who  neither  by  themselves  nor  their  ancestors 
had  previously  enjoyed  them.  There  is  nothing  to  show  what  sense  was 
attached  to  the  vague  expression  jus  antecessorium,  or  by  what  evidence 
it  was  expected  to  be  supported. 

Our  neighbours  on  the  Continent  appear  to  have  preceded,  or,  at  least, 
excelled,  us  in  the  martial  exercises  of  the  tourney  and  joust,  and  an  early 
chronicle  records  of  Prince  Henry,  the  son  of  Henry  I.,  who  was  after- 
wards drowned  at  sea,  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  France  every 
third  year,  in  order  to  take  part  "  in  conflictibus  Gallicis."  It  was 
Richard  I.  who  perceiving  the  inferiority  of  his  subjects  in  such  encoun- 
ters, rectified  the  evil  by  his  ordinances  for  jousts  and  tournaments. 

The  subsequent  prevalence  of  these  fashionable  recreations,  mimicking 
"  War's  magnificently  stern  array,"  was  not  unlikely  to  bring  into  fre- 
quent use  one  of  the  functions  of  this  Court  of  Chivalry,  that  which  re- 
spected the  regulating  and  marshalling  of  coat  armour. 

Armorial  bearings  are  to  the  eye  what  names  are  to  the  ear  j  in  the 
first  assumer  or  grantee,  they  may  be  taken  to  resemble  Christian  names, 
suggestive  merely  of  the  personal  history  and  private  qualities  of  the 
bearer;  in  their  descent,  however,  they  are  quasi  surnames  and  additions 
of  honour,  and  become  the  external  expression,  not  merely  of  individual 
but  of  collective  worth  and  prowess,  and  of  connexion  with  an  ancestry, 
which  could  in  no  other  mode  be  so  becomingly  and  inobtrusively  pre- 
sented to  observation,  as  by  those  silent  yet  eloquent  mementos  of  an 
extant  or  a  bygone  race,  crests  and  quarterings. 

The  bearing  of  coats  of  arms  has  been  most  whimsically  styled  "that 
extraordinary  phrenzy  of  the  human  mind."  Would  we  know  the 
martial  purpose  of  the  invention  ?  It  is  at  hand.  "  The  end  of  heraldic 
insignia,"  says  Borghini,  "  is  to  distinguish  the  bearer  from  his  ene- 
mies, and  make  him  recognizable  by  his  friends."  A  good  custom 
may  survive  its  utility,  but  no  custom  ever  became  universal  that 
was  not  founded  upon  some  general  principles  of  public  conve- 
nience. In  this  respect  a  custom  differs  from  a  law,  which  may  in 
particular  cases  have  originated  in  the  tyranny,  the  lust,  the  shame,  the 
malignity  of  a  despot.  A  custom  is  a  different  thing  j  it  must  have 
originated  in  necessity,  and  been  sanctioned  by  general  consent.  Why, 
however,  do  we  find  so  high  a  degree  of  importance  attached  to  the 
preserving  intact  a  right  to  bear  particular  arms  ?  Those  arms  were  an 
evidence,  popularly  speaking,  almost  conclusive,  not  merely  of  descent 
but  of  nobility.  This  was  one  reason  j  another  was,  that  in  the  earlier 
period  of  our  history,  a  right  to  coat  armour  carried  with  it  important 
privileges  as  to  the  use  of  offensive  and  defensive  arms  in  the  case  of 



trials  by  battle;  it  gave  also  the  solid  advantages  of  "honour,  repu- 
tation, and  place,"  and  these  are  the  very  terms  used  in  the  Statute  of 
Precedence  passed  in  the  reign  of  King  Henry  VIII.  "  There  was  one 
James  Parker,  a  servant  in  court  to  King  Henry  VII.,  that  had  accused 
Hugh  Vaughan  (one  of  the  gentleman  ushers  of  the  said  king),  unto  the 
king  of  some  undutiful  words  spoken  by  him  of  the  said  king.  Where- 
upon the  person  accused  challenged  combat  with  the  accuser  ;  and  be- 
cause he  was  not  a  coat  armour  gentleman,  Sir  John  Wriotheslye,  then 
principal  king-at-arms,  gave  unto  the  said  Hugh  Vaughan  a  coat  armour, 
with  helm  and  timber,  the  14th  of  October,  1490,  anno  6  Hen.  VII. 
Whereupon  the  said  king  sent  for  the  said  Garter,  and  demanded  of  him, 
whether  he  had  made  any  such  patent  or  no?  who  answered,  that  he  had 
made  such  arms.  Whereupon  the  king's  highness,  in  his  most  royal 
person,  in  open  justice  at  Richmond,  before  all  his  lords,  allowed  and 
admitted  the  said  grant  made  by  Garter,  and  likewise  allowed  the  said 
Hugh  Vaughan  to  run  with  the  said  James  Parker,  who  was  at  the  said 
time  slain  by  the  said  Vaughan  in  the  said  jousts.7'*  Had  this  grant  of 
arms  not  been  allowed,  it  would  rather  seem  that  Vaughan  would  have 
had  to  meet  his  steel-clad  opponent  in  a  simple  buff  jerkin,  and  with 
inferior  weapons. 

No  doubt,  in  the  present  day,  all  the  advantages  of  the  institution 
have  not  survived 

"  The  old  world  changeth,  yielding  place  to  new, 
And  God  fulfils  himself  in  many  ways, 
Lest  one  good  custom  should  corrupt  the  world." 

TENNYSON'S  Mone  d' Arthur. 

This  is  an  age  of  pictorial  illustration,  and  when  we  appreciate  the  ad- 
vantages of  being  made  to  comprehend  at  a  glance  what  it  would  other- 
wise require  hours  of  steady  attention,  as  listeners  or  as  readers,  to  ob- 
tain an  idea  of,  no  wonder  that  heraldry  has  again  become  in  some 
measure  a  popular  study  -}  not  only  does  it  breathe  the  spirit  of  a  by- 
gone, a  generous  age,  and  powerfully  suggest  its  influence,  which  to  ap- 
preciate is  to  share  j  but  its  devices  are  a  compendious  mode  of  con- 
veying information  upon  an  interesting  subject. 

"  Would  that  I  were  a  painter,  to  be  grouping 
All  that  the  poet  drags  into  detail." — BYRON. 

How  much  historical  description  and  genealogical  narrative  does  a 
little  herald  painting  save  us !  But  it  is  not  merely  on  this  score  that 
the  present  practice  is  to  be  vindicated.  The  genealogical  utility  of 
ancient  armorial  bearings  and  quarterings  has  long  been  recognized  by 
our  lawyers.  "  I  know  three  families,"  says  Biglandf,  "  who  have  ac- 
quired estates  by  virtue  of  preserving  the  arms  and  escutcheons  of  their 
ancestors."  So  in  the  Huntingdon  peerage  case  (p.  359),  a  very  old 
armorial  shield,  emblazoned  with  the  armorial  ensigns  of  the  Earls  of 
Huntingdon,  which  included  those  of  Stanley,  was  received  as  evidence 
of  a  marriage  between  the  two  families.  But  if  this  utility  is  thus  ad- 
mitted at  the  present  day,  what  greater  importance  must  have  been 
attached  to  such  evidences  at  a  time  when  the  heralds  were  still  unincor- 

*  Hearne's  Collections,  vol.  ii.  p.  168. 

Biglaml  on  Parochial  Registers,  1767. 
Q  2 


porated,  and  no  such  thing  as  parochial  registers  existed,  when  all  knights 
could  not  read,  nor  all  nobles  write  ? 

When  Sir  William  Scrope  saw  a  Frenchman  in  his  bearings,  well  might 
that  doughty  knight  feel  touchy  on  the  subject :  the  force  of  this  very 
natural  feeling  was  admitted  by  Cromwell,  Earl  of  Essex,  at  a  much  later 
period.  He  had  no  paternal  shield  of  arms,  and  when  some  obsequious 
heralds  would  have  entitled  him  to  the  arms  of  Cromwell  of  Lincolnshire, 
extinct  long  before,  his  answer  was,  "  He  would  not  wear  another  man's 
coat,  for  fear  the  owner  should  pluck  it  off  his  ears  ;"  and  he  took  a  fresh 
grant  of  arms. 

The  question,  What's  in  a  name?  implies  a  sophism  that  the  blindness 
of  passionate  love  could  alone  overlook.  What's  in  an  armorial  bearing? 
exclaims  many  a  man  who  does  not  scorn  to  bear,  without  right,  the 
thing  that  he  affects  to  despise.  Is  he  curious  to  learn  the  answer  of 
Anglo-Norman  antiquity,  let  him  consult  the  roll  in  the  case  of  Scrope 
and  Grosvenor. 

Although  some  inaccuracies  have  crept  into  the  accounts  of  the  early 
branches  of  the  family  of  Grosvenor,  owing  to  genealogists  having 
occasionally  confounded  the  Latin  patronymics  of  the  two  distinct  families 
of  Venables  and  Grosvenor,  (Venatores  and  Grossovenatores),  there  is 
still  light  enough  to  enable  us  to  distinguish  the  remote  antiquity  of  either 
stock.  The  family  of  Grosvenor  at  a  very  early  date,  long  before  the  right 
of  Sir  Robert  Grosvenor  to  bear  the  arms  "  azure  a  bend  or"  was  chal- 
lenged by  Sir  Richard  Scrope,  had  become  divided  into  the  branches  of 
the  Grosvenors  of  Hulme  (of  which  was  Sir  Robert  the  defendant  in  the 
suit)  and  the  Grosvenors  of  Budworth.  The  antiquity  of  the  latter 
branch  is  undeniable;  its  founder  Robert  le  Grosvenor  appears  in  an 
ancient  charter  as  the  grantee  of  the  manor  of  Budworth  from  Hugh 
Kevelioc  Earl  of  Chester  1160 — 1181.  At  the  time  of  the  controversy 
now  under  review,  this  branch  had  no  longer  a  male  lineal  representative, 
but  its  honours  had  descended  upon  coheiresses  who  had  intermarried  into 
some  of  the  oldest  houses  in  Cheshire,  the  Venables  of  Bradwall  and 
Alvanley,  the  Bromleys  and  the  Del  Meres.  The  precise  point  of  con- 
nexion between  the  Budworth  and  the  Hulme  branches,  is  by  the  confes- 
sion of  family  and  county  historians  not  now  discoverable.*  But  that 
the  connexion  did  once  exist  is  evident  by  the  whole  tenor  of  the  Grosve- 
nor depositions  in  the  suit  of  arms. 

According  to  the  pedigree  of  the  Grosvenors  of  Hulme,  compiled  by 
Sir  Peter  Leycester,  which  as  it  accords  with  the  depositions  of  the 
Abbot  of  Vale  Royal  in  this  cause,  Leycester  probably  drew  from  the 
same  source,  their  first  progenitor  was  Gilbert  le  Grosvenor  a  nephew 
of  Hugh  Lupus,  first  Earl  of  Chester,  himself  a  nephew  of  the  Conqueror. 
Of  Gilbert  a  Robert  was  son  and  heir,  to  whom  succeeded  his  son 
Henry,  who  had  a  son  upon  whom  the  representation  of  the  Hulme 
branch  devolved. 

There  appears  some  confusion  as  to  the  name  of  this  the  fourth  person- 
age in  descent,  the  Abbot  of  Vale  Royal  says  Raufe;  an  ancient  deed  terms 
his  son  Richard,  the  son  of  Handle  (filius  Ranulfi  Grossovenatoris.)  Sir 
Peter  Leycester  says  Raufe  or  Randle  Grosvenor  ;  Collins  falls  into  palpa- 
ble error  here,  introducing  an  unauthorized  Robert;  Ormerod  suggests 
that  Ralph  and  Randle  may  have  been  grandfather  and  father  of  Richard 

*  See  Ormerod's  Cheshire,  vol.  ii.  p.  115,  note  c. 



\vhodied  about  1269,  and  from  whom  the  descent  is  clear ;  hut  the  con- 
jecture, however  plausible,  cannot  be  presumed  to  be  accurate  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  positive  deposition  of  a  witness  so  near  the  time  and  so  likely 
to  be  well  informed  as  the  Abbot  of  Vale  Royal. 

Raufe  or  Randle  is  said  by  one  of  the  deponents  to  have  been  en- 
gaged in  1141,  on  the  part  of  his  kinsman  and  local  prince  Randle  II., 
in  the  battle  of  Lincoln  where  he  wore  the  arms  before  mentioned,  and  to 
have  been  also  engaged  in  the  battle  in  which  the  said  earl  was  taken 
prisoner  in  1143.  That  he  wore  the  bearings  in  question  in  the  battle 
of  Lincoln,  may  be  believed  by  those  who  esteem  heraldic  devices  as  of 
that  antiquity,  but  the  character  of  human  testimony  being  substantial 
truth  under  circumstantial  variety,  the  whole  evidence  of  the  witness  is 
not  to  be  altogether  disbelieved  because  in  this  particular  questionable  or 
inaccurate.  For  if  so,  to  be  consistent  we  must  also  discredit  the 
evidences  of  the  Scrope  witnesses  who,  anxious  to  speak  for  the  antiquity 
of  the  arms,  refer  their  origin  to  the  reign  of  a  fabulous  Prince 

Richard  le  Grosvenor  (the  son  of  Ralph  or  Randle)  from  whom  the 
descent  is  clear,  lived  1269,  and  left  a  son, 

Robert,  who  was  sheriff  of  Cheshire  12,  13  and  14  Edward  I.,  he  died 
1284  :  by  his  wife  Margery  he  left  a  son, 

Robert  Grosvenor,  of  Ruddeheath,  under  age  21  Edward  I.;  according 
to  the  evidence  of  Leycester  he  had  served  and  borne  the  arms  in 
question  in  Scotland  temp.  Edward  II.  He  died  about  1 342,  having  been 
twice  married  ;  by  his  second  wife,  Emma,daughter  of  William  Mobberley, 
coheiress  to  her  mother  and  to  Sir  Raufe  Mobberley,  he  left  a  son 
Raufe  Grosvenor,  Esq.,  who  died  about  30  Edward  III.,  1356,  and  was 
buried  in  Nether  Peover  ;  by  his  wife  Joan  he  left  a  son,  the  defendant  in 
the  cause  of  arms. 

Sir  Robert  Grosvenor,  Knight,  was  under  age  at  the  time  of  his  father's 
death,  and  became  ward  of  Sir  John  Daniell,  who  married  him  to  his 
daughter  Joan ,  She  either  died  before  he  came  to  maturity  or  before 
she  had  any  issue  by  him,  and  he  subsequently  married  Joan,  daughter 
of  Sir  Robert  Pulford  and  sister  and  heiress  of  John  Pulford  and  widow 
of  Thomas  son  of  John  de  Belgrave,  a  match  which  appears  to  have 
occasioned  some  little  stir,  for  we  find  one  of  the  adverse  witnesses  (Sir 
Matthew  Redman)  deposing  that  the  first  time  he  heard  speak  of  Sir 
Robert  was  when  some  one  observed  that  he  was  to  marry  the  Lady  of 

There  is  good  ground  for  supposing  that  this  marriage  and  that  of  Sir 
Robert's  grandfather  with  the  heiress  of  Mobberley,  coupled  with  the 
failure  of  the  male  line  of  the  Grosvenors  of  Budworth,  were  the  chief 
cause  of  the  prominence  of  the  Hulme  branch. 

The  direct  line  of  the  Grosvenors  of  Hulme  terminating  also  in 
coheiresses,  the  inheritance  of  the  name  remained  with  Ralph  Grosvenor 
Esq.  of  Eaton,  jure  uxoris  the  lineal  descendant  of  the  defendant  in  the 
suit  of  arms  and  the  progenitor  of  the  present  noble  house  of  Grosvenor. 

In  the  year  1395,  John  Lord  Lovel  challenged  the  arms  of  Thomas  Lord 
Moriey,  and  in  the  first  instance  by  word  of  mouth  j  the  defendant  com- 
plaining of  this  course,  the  Court  directed  the  claimant  to  reduce  his 

*  See  deposition  of  Sir  Thomas  Fychet,  vol.  ii.  p.  G2.  f  Vol.  ii.  p.  460, 


challenge  to  writing.*  All  the  proceedings  in  the  Scrope  case  seem  to 
have  been  in  writing,  with  a  single  exception,  for  from  a  memorandum  of 
the  proceedings  in  a  MS.  in  the  Lansdowne  Collection,  85,  pi.  758,  it 
appears  that  in  the  first  instance  Sir  Robert  Grosvenor  appealed  from  the 
sentence  of  the  Constable  to  the  king  orally  (sub  certa  forma  verborum 
viva  voce)  the  appeal  was  afterwards  embodied  in  a  more  regular  form  in 
writing.  In  that  first  mentioned  case  the  parties  consented  to  the  follow- 
ing mode  of  proofs.  "  Sepultures  Testimonies  of  Abbots  and  other 
ecclesiastical  persons  and  other  honourable  witnesses  who  have  had  notice 
of  their  ancestors  and  antiquity,  and  paynted  tombs,  testaments  and 
other  evidences,  besides  the  testimonies  of  Lords,  Knights,  Esquires  of 
honour  and  gentlemen  having  knowledge  of  arms,  and  no  other  men  of 
common  or  lower  estate,  and  all  the  witnesses  to  be  sworn  except  the 
Dukes  of  Lancaster,  York,  and  Earl  of  Derby." 

In  the  Scrope  and  Grosvenor  case  a  somewhat  similar  course  seemsto 
have  been  adopted,  nor  do  we  believe  that  of  the  40O  witnesses  who 
made  depositions  even  one  was  of  lower  estate  than  "  a  gentleman 
having  knowledge  of  arms/'  The  first  and  most  puissant  witness  for 
Scrope  was  John  of  Gaunt, — we  give  the  deposition  entire. 

"  John,  by  the  grace  of  God,  KING  OF  CASTILE  AND  LEON,  DUKE  OF 
LANCASTER,  being  prayed,  and,  according  to  the  Law  of  Arms,  required, 
by  the  proctor  of  Sir  Richard  le  Scrope,  to  testify  the  truth  between  the 
said  Sir  Richard  and  Sir  Robert  Grosvenor  in  a  controversy  between  them 
concerning  the  arms  '  Azure  a  bend  Or,'  do  verily  testify,  that  at  the 
time  when  We  were  armed  in  battles  and  other  journeysf  in  divers 
countries,  We  have  seen  and  known  that  the  said  Sir  Richard  hath  borne 
his  arms  '  Azure,  a  bend  Or ;'  and  that  many  of  his  name  and  lineage 
have  borne  the  same  name  and  arms,  on  banner,  pennon,  and  coat  armour  ; 
and  that  We  have  heard  from  many  noble  and  valiant  men,  since  deceased, 
that  the  said  arms  were  of  right  the  arms  of  his  ancestors  and  himself 
at  the  time  of  the  Conquest  and  since.  And,  moreover,  We  say  and 
testify,  that  at  the  last  expedition  in  France  of  our  most  dread  lord  and 
father,  on  whom  God  have  mercy,  a  controversy  arose  concerning  the 
said  arms  between  Sir  Richard  le  Scrope  aforesaid,  and  one  called  Car- 
minow  of  Cornwall,  which  Carminow  challenged  those  arms  of  the 
said  Sir  Richard,  the  which  dispute  was  referred  to  six  knights,  now  as 
IJ  think,  dead,  who  upon  true  evidence  found  the  said  Carminow  to  be 
descended  of  a  lineage  armed  '  Azure  abend  Or,'  since  the  time  of  King 
Arthur ;  and  they  found  that  the  said  Sir  Richard  was  descended  of  a 
right  line  of  ancestry  armed  with  the  said  arms,  '  Azure  a  bend  Or,'  since 
the  time  of  King  William  the  Conqueror  j  and  so  it  was  adjudged  that 

*  See  the  proceedings  Harl.  MS.  4268.  One  question  raised  by  the  replication  in  this 
cause  was  whether  a  man  can  grant  or  sell  his  arms  to  the  prejudice  of  his  posterity. 

t  In  the  original  "  journee."  This  word  is  generally  used  to  describe  an  action  with 
the  enemy  in  the  field,  of  rather  less  importance  than  a  general  battle.  It  has  been 
anglicized  by  "  journey,"  William  of  Worcester,  speaking  of  the  battle  of  St.  Albans 
in  1455,  says,  '*  All  the  lords  that  died  at  the  journey  are  buried  at  St.  Albans."  Paston 
Letters,  i.  109. — '*  Anno  12  Henry  VI.  This  same  yere  aboughte  Witsontyd,  the 
Lollardes  of  Prage  were  distroyd,  for  at  too  journeys  there  were  sclayn  of  them  mo 
thane  xxtt  M1  with  there  cheveteynes."— Chronicle  of  London,  4to.  1827,  p.  120.  The 
word  journey  also  frequently  occurs  in  another  chronicle  of  the  sixteenth  century ,  where 
an  account  is  given  of  the  "  journies  that  were  done  after  the  Kyng  landid  at  Caleis," 
(anno  8  Hen.  VI.)  whence  its  import  may  be  fully  understood.  Ibid.  p.  170. 

{  It  is  remarkable  that  in  this  part  of  his  deposition,  Lancaster  is  made  to  speak  in 
the  first  person  singular. 


both  might  bear  the  arms  entire.  But  We  have  not  seen  or  heard  that 
the  said  Sir  Robert,  or  any  of  his  name,  bore  the  said  arms  before  the 
last  expedition  in  Scotland  with  our  lord  the  King." 

The  evidence  of  the  ecclesiastics,  Abbots  and  Priors,  on  each  side  is 
most  important  upon  the  point  of  descent,  but  this  we  must  pass  over. 
Neither  have  we  space  for  any  comment  upon  the  interesting  testimony 
of  Chaucer. 

"  Geoffrey  Chaucer,  Esq.,  of  the  age  of  forty  and  upwards,  armed 
twenty-seven  years,  being  asked  whether  the  arms,  Azure,  a  bend  Or, 
belonged  to  Sir  Richard  Scrope,  said  yes,  for  he  saw  him  so  armed  in 
France  before  the  town  of  Retters,  and  Sir  Henry  Scrope  armed  in  the 
same  arms  with  a  white  label,  and  with  banner  ;  and  the  said  Sir  Richard 
armed  in  the  entire  arms,  and  so  during  the  whole  expedition,  until  the 
said  Geoffrey  was  taken.  Being  asked  how  he  knew  that  the  arms 
appertained  to  Sir  Richard,  said  that  he  had  heard  old  kaights  and 
esquires  say  that  they  had  had  continual  possession  of  the  said  arms  j 
and  that  he  had  seen  them  displayed  on  banners,  glass,  paintings,  and 
vestments,  and  commonly  called  the  arms  of  Scrope.  Being  asked 
whether  he  had  ever  heard  of  any  interruption  or  challenge  made  by  Sir 
Robert  Grosvenor  or  his  ancestors,  said  no,  but  that  he  was  once  in 
Friday  Street,  London,  and  walking  through  the  street,  he  observed  a 
new  sign  hanging  out  with  these  arms  thereon,  and  inquired  '  what  inn 
that  was  that  had  hung  out  these  arms  of  Scrope  ?'  and  one  answered  him, 
saying,  '  They  are  not  hung  out,  Sir,  for  the  arms  of  Scrope,  nor  painted 
there  for  those  arms,  but  they  are  painted  and  put  there  by  a  Knight  of 
the  county  of  Chester,  called  Sir  Robert  Grosvenor  j*  and  that  was  the 
first  time  that  he  ever  heard  speak  of  Sir  Robert  Grosvenor,  or  his  an- 
cestors, or  of  any  one  bearing  the  name  of  Grosvenor." 

Thomas  de  Horneby,  called  by  Grosvenor,  said  that  he  knew  neither 
Sir  Robert  Grosvenor  nor  his  ancestors,  not  being  himself  of  the  county 
of  Chester.* 

William  Hesilrigg,  Esq.  had  seen  Scropes  armed  in  the  army  at 
Cressy,  where  there  were  many  good  knights  of  the  county  of  Chester, 
and  many  good  archers,  who  neither  at  that  time  nor  afterwards  gainsaid 
the  said  arms. 

Sir  Andrew  Luttriell,  senior,  Knight,  had  never  heard  any  good  or  ill 
of  Grosvenor  or  his  ancestors. 

Amongst  the  deponents,  of  whom  notices  are  reserved  by  Sir  Harris 
Nicolas  for  a  future  and  concluding  volume,  is  Johan  de  Holand,  Esquier. 
We  conclude  this  individual  to  have  been  the  John  de  Holand  whose 
singular  adventures  with  a  Frenchman  of  the  name  of  Roye  is  men- 
tioned by  Froissard.  Engaged  together  in  a  joust  of  arms,  John  de 
Holland's  lance  three  times  bore  away  the  helmet  of  his  antagonist,  leaving 
him  bareheaded  but  without  injury  ;  upon  examination  it  was  discovered 
that  the  Frenchman  designedly  omitted  the  usual  fastenings  that  attached 
the  casque  to  the  armour.  Complaint  was  made  of  this  proceeding  as 
unfair,  but  John  of  Gaunt,  in  whose  presence  the  matter  occurred,  refused 
to  interfere,  although  he  seems  to  have  deemed  it  an  improper  use  of 
the  defensive  arms  5  and  from  a  subsequent  passage  in  Froissard  one  is 
led  to  believe  that  the  trick  was  several  times  afterwards  practised. 

Sir  John  Gyldesburgh  deposes  that  when  he  was  twelve  years  old  and 

*   Vol.  ii.  p.  303. 


went  to  school  at  Oxenford  he  saw  there  the  commencement  of  a  clerk 
hearing  the  name  Le  Scrope,  and  that  there  were  trumpeters  there 
having  attached  to  their  trumpets  pennoncels  with  the  said  arms,  and 
the  clerks  demanded  whose  arms  these  were,  when  it  was  stated  that  they 
were  the  arms  of  Le  Scrope. 

Another  of  the  Scrope  witnesses  was  John  Lord  Lovel,  already  referred 
to,  as  himself  engaged  in  a  similar  cause  of  arms. 

Another  deponent  is  a  Sir  Ralph  Vernon,  Knight,  perhaps  the  illegiti- 
mate son,  who  yet  succeeded  to  his  father's  interest  in  the  barony  of 
Shipbrooke  by  grant  from  his  father  and  sister,  he  survived  to  the  age  of 
150  years,  and  is  styled  in  Cheshire  collections,  the  long  liver  and  Old  Sir 
Ralph.  He  outlived  sons,  grandsons,  and  great  grandsons ;  his  great- 
great-grandson  Sir  Ralph  Vernon,  Knight,  called  young  Sir  Ralph,  suc- 
ceeded him  in  his  estates.  Old  Sir  Ralph  the  deponent,  it  is  presumed, 
had  for  his  second  wife,  (some  say  concubine,)  Maud  Grosvenor,  by  several 
pedigrees  made  the  sister  of  Robert  Grosvenor  of  Budworth. 

According  to  an  entry  of  Augustine  Vincent  preserved  in  Woodnoth's 
Collections,  p.  58,  b.,  the  age  would  seem  as  correctly  given. 

"  This  was  sr  Raufe  Vernon  yo  Olde,  the  quick  levet  **  years  and  x  yeare ; 
and  he  had  to  his  first  wife  one  Mary  yo  lords  doghter  of  Dacre,  and  he  had 
issue  by  her  on  sr  Raufe  yo  Vernon  of  Hanewell,  Maister  Richard  persone 
of  Stockport,  oy  two  sonnes  Nicholl  and  Hugh  yo  quick  were  both  freres 
and  two  daughters  Agatha  and  Rose.  Then  deghet  the  foreset  Mary  and 
after  her  death  yo  foreset  sr  Raufe  tooke  to  pa'neore  one  Maude  yo  Gros- 
venor and  had  issue  by  her  Richard  and  Robert,  bastards." 

We  have  not  been  able  to  find  any  other  knight  of  the  family  of 
Vernon  whose  Christian  name  coincides,  that  would  better  correspond 
with  the  deponent  Raufe  Vernon,  Chival'.  It  is  remarked  in  the  parti- 
cular instance  of  Chaucer,  that  his  age  in  the  deposition  was  not  given 
with  accuracy ;  the  same  may  be  true  of  Vernon,  who,  if  he  was  the 
party  in  question,  must  then  have  been  much  older  than  forty-six  years, 
and  would  hardly  have  been  justified  in  styling  himself  as  de  1'age  de  46  et 
plus,  when  he  must  have  completed  double  that  period  :  very  old  gentle- 
men are,  however,  sometimes  loth  to  admit  the  precise  day  of  their 
birth,  and,  perhaps,  this  shrewd  old  knight,  knowing  that  a  date  fre- 
quently fixes  a  fact,  wished  the  illegitimacy  of  his  origin  to  be  lost  in 
the  mist  of  years :  vain  hope,  stands  it  not  recorded  in  judicial  records 
and  county  collections ! 

The  deposition  of  John  Thirlewalle  is  so  remarkable  in  many  respects, 
that  we  cannot  omit,  even  at  the  risk  of  an  almost  unreasonable  pro- 
lixity, to  give  a  portion  of  it  at  length.  His  father,  if  his  testimony  or 
the  fidelity  of  the  copyist  of  the  roll  be  not  impeachable,  attained  so  ad- 
vanced a  period  of  life  as  to  make  him  a  worthy  competitor  with  "  Olde 
Sir  Ralph  Vernon,"  already  alluded  to,  in  the  race  of  longevity  $  hut  it 
must  be  remembered,  that  in  a  case  of  this  kind,  it  would  be  the  object 
of  a  party  to  procure  the  evidence  of  the  oldest  witnesses — their  greater 
age  lending  an  additional  value  to  their  testimony. 

"  John  Thirlewalle,  of  the  age  of  fifty-four,  armed  thirty-two  years 
and  more,  being  asked  whether  the  arms  Azure,  a  bend  Or,  belonged  to 
Sir  Richard  Scrope,  said,  certainly,  and  that  he  would  well  prove  it  by 
evidence ;  for  the  grandfather  of  the  said  Sir  Richard,  who  was  named 
William  Le  Scrope,  was  made  a  knight  at  Falkirk  in  Scotland  under  the 
banner  of  the  good  King  Edward  with  the  Longshanks,  as  his  (the  De- 


ponent's)  father  told  and  shewed  him  before  his  death,  for  his  father  was 
through  old  age  bedridden,  and  could  not  walk  for  some  time  before  his 
decease  3  and  whilst  he  so  lay  he  heard  some  one  say  that  people  said 
that  the  father  of  Sir  Richard  was  no  gentleman  because  he  was  the 
King's  Justice  ;  and  his  (Deponent's)  father  called  his  sons  before  him, 
of  whom  he  the  said  John  was  the  youngest  of  all  his  brethren,  and  said, 
'  My  sons,  I  hear  that  some  say  that  Sir  Henry  Scrope  is  no  great  gen- 
tleman because  he  is  a  man  of  the  law,  but  I  tell  you  certainly,  that  his 
father  was  made  a  knight  at  Falkirk  in  these  arms,  Azure,  a  bend  Or, 
and  they  are  descended  from  great  and  noble  gentlemen  j  and  if  any  one 
say  otherwise,  do  ye  testify  that  I  have  said  so  of  truth,  upon  faith  and 
loyalty  j  and  if  I  were  young  I  would  hold  and  maintain  my  saying  to 
the  death.'  And  his  (the  Deponent's)  father,  when  he  died,  was  of  the 
age  of  seven  score  and  five,  [**  ans  &  v.]  and  was  when  he  died  the 
oldest  esquire  of  all  the  North,  and  had  been  armed  during  sixty-nine 
years,  and  has  been  dead  forty-four  years." 

Here  we  have  another  indication  of  the  military  feeling',  so  prevalent 
in  that  age,  that  prompted  men  to  disparage  the  law,  as  if  gentle  blood 
and  that  profession  were  hardly  compatible ;  men  said,  "  Sir  Henry 
Scrope  is  no  gentleman,  because  he  is  a  man  of  the  law."  "  He  is  not  a 
gentleman,  but  the  King's  Justice."  And  yet,  perhaps,  in  the  particular 
instance,  it  was  only  an  exemplification  of  the  coxcombry  of  the  young 
"  bloods  "  of  the  time,  which  received  a  fitting  rebuke  from  the  dying 
lips  of  the  aged  warrior,  the  veteran  esquire,  "  the  oldest  of  all  the 
North,"  who  had  seen  Scrope  wielding  with  credit  both  the  pen  and  the 
sword,  and,  perhaps,  had  heard  him  priding  himself,  in  spite  of  the  sneers 
of  his  illiterate  comrades,  on  the  rare  union  of  these  opposite  accom- 
plishments, and  mentally  ejaculating  with  Dante's  hero, 

"  Assai  con  senno  feci  e  con  la  spada." 

And  so  even  in  this  age  (how  different !)  our  young  cocks,  to  borrow  an 
expression  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  a  letter  tvi  his  son,  crow  after  the 
same  fashion,  and  the  man  of  action  derides  the  man  of  contemplation, 
'*  the  patient  bookworm,"  and  sneers  at  the  process 

"  Slow,  exhausting  thought 
And  hiving  wisdom  with  each  studious  year." — BYRON. 

Not  so  the  truly  wise.  In  a  later  but  not  an  unchivalrous  age,  that  hero 
whose  ashes  still  lie  (shame  to  Scotland)  in  a  nameless  grave,  upon 
whose  shoulders  the  mantle  of  loyal  and  chivalrous  feeling  descended,  as 
to  a  legitimate  self-elected  champion,  the  great  Montrose,  scorned  not 
the  double  grace,  and  thus  addressed  the  object  of  his  affections : 

"  For  if  no  faithless  action  stain, 

Thy  truth  and  plighted  word, 
I'll  make  thee  famous  with  my  pen, 
And  glorious  with  my  sword." 

To  return.  Little  did  those  scornful  men  foresee,  that  it  would  not  be 
long  before  members  of  the  profession  of  which  they  affected  to  think  so 
lightly  would  be  self-dubbed,  and  without  question,  "  Esquires  by  office;" 
nay,  would  be  entitled  to  take  rank,  by  the  sanction  of  the  Earl  Marshal 
himself,  with  their  military  rivals  :  a  consideration  calculated  to  make 
those  sturdy  soldiers  now  turn  round  in  their  graves! 

On  the  Continent,  it  appears  from  Selden  (Titles  of  Honor),  that  it 


was  at  one  time  much  doubted,  whether  a  civilian  could  be  invested  with 
the  gold  spurs  of  knighthood  ;  until  Bartolus  or  Baldus,  we  forget 
which,  settled  it  in  the  affirmative.  It  might  be  interesting  to  learn  the 
reasons  that  swayed  him  in  so  deciding. 

The  questions  proposed  to  the  deponents  of  Sir  Richard  Scrope  would 
seem  to  have  been  the  following : — 

Do  the  arms  az.  with  a  bend  or  belong,  or  ought  they  of  right  to  be- 
long, to  Sir  Richard  Scrope  ?  Have  you  heard  or  seen  that  the  ancestors 
of  Sir  Richard  have  borne  the  said  arms ;  and  if  so,  have  you  heard  by 
what  title  or  right  they  have  borne  them  ?  Have  you  heard  who  was 
the  first  ancestor  of  Sir  Richard  Scrope  who  used  them?  Sometimes  is 
superadded  the  question,  where  the  witness  is  supposed  to  incline  to  the 
defence,  Are  you  of  the  affinity  or  blood  of  Sir  Robert  Grosvenor  ? 

Some  witnesses  said,  that  Scrope's  ancestor  came  over  with  William 
the  Conqueror  j  others,  that  he  was  temp  Edward  the  Confessor  j 
others,  that  he  came  with  Robert  de  Gant  at  the  Conquest;  others,  that 
he  had  borne  the  arms  from  King  Arthur.  Lord  Grey  de  Ruthen  said, 
that  he  knew  nothing  of  the  Grosvenors,  but  that  he  had  once  purchased 
from  "  one  Emma  Grovenour  a  black  mare  for  twenty-two  pounds." 
This  Emma  Grosvenor  was,  as  we  have  seen,  the  heiress  of  Mobberley, 
who  married  the  grandfather  of  the  defendant. 

When  Sir  William  Brereton  was  called  on  behalf  of  Sir  Richard 
Scrope,  and  sworn,  neither  the  entreaty  of  the  proctor  nor  the  admoni- 
tion of  the  commissioners  could  induce  him  to  open  his  lips  to  give 
testimony;  silence,  says  Sir  Harris  Nicolas,  explained  by  his  relationship 
to  the  Grosvenors.  He  was  fined  20/.  for  his  contumacy. 

With  John  Leycester,Esquier,  we  confess  we  think  that  the  author  deals 
somewhat  harshly,  in  attributing  to  him  any  undue  feeling,  in  his  protes- 
tations of  ignorance  to  the  questions  proposed  to  him;  for  those  ques- 
tions respected,  as  we  have  shown,  merely  the  right  of  Sir  Richard 
Scrope,  nor  do  we  see  why  his  admission,  when  examined  for  the 
defendant,  that  he  was  his  cousin  in  the  third  or  fourth  degree,  should 
make  us  conclude  that  the  deponent  had  wilfully  swerved  from  the  truth 
in  his  first  examination. 

The  Scrope  witnesses,  for  the  most  part,  speak  not  merely  to  the 
rights  of  Sir  Richard  Scrope,  but  to  their  ignorance,  not  only  of  the 
rights  but  of  the  existence,  either  of  Sir  Robert  or  his  family.  There  is, 
however,  one  notable  exception  in  the  person  of  a  member  of  the  illus- 
trious house  of  Percy,  Sir  Thomas  Percy,  afterwards  Earl  of  Worcester, 
brother  of  the  Earl  of  Northumberland,  who,  although  he  gives  strong 
testimony  to  the  Scrope  right,  yet  admits  that  he  has  heard  'that  Sir 
Robert  Grosvenor  was  a  gentleman  of  high  degree  (grants  gentilx 
home).  On  the  Grosvenor  side,  the  negative  evidence  as  to  Scrope's 
rights  was  almost  equally  strong,  and  some  of  the  deponents  even  went 
so  far  as  to  say,  they  had  never  heard  of  Sir  Richard,  a  species  of  reta- 
liation somewhat  amusing,  but  which,  from  the  distinguished  position  of 
th^  noble  plaintiff,  must  have  almost  argued  themselves  unknown. 

Robert  de  Stanlegh,  Esquire,  had  heard  since  the  suit,  that  the  said 
Sir  Richard  Scrope,  and  Henry  his  father,  had  borne  the  said  arms,  but 
no  other  of  their  progenitors  before  them. 

Richard  Talbot  says,  that  he  had  heard  many  say  that  Sir  Richard 
Scrope  was  only  the  third  in  the  line  of  his  ancestors  who  had  borne  the 
said  arms. 


In  one  instance,  that  of  Sir  Thomas  Mandevill,  whose  name  is  not 
upon  the  roll  of  witnesses,  the  evidence  of  a  witness  was  sent  to  the 
Constable  and  Marshal  in  the  form  of  a  letter,  which  Sir  Harris  Nicolas 
found  in  the  Harleian  Collection.  We  give  another  similar  testimonial 
of  the  Earl  of  Oxford  at  length,  from  a  transcript  also  in  one  of  the 
Harleian  MSS.,  1178,  436,  not  because  any  new  fact  is  stated,  or  any 
additional  light  thrown  upon  the  question  litigated,  but  because  it  illus- 
trates the  loose  course  of  proceeding  in  the  Court  of  Chivalry,  which  ad- 
mitted, it  would  seem,  "  all  evidence  of  an  honourable  and  authentic 
nature  except  battle,  which  was  in  this  case  expressly  excluded,"  the 
reason  being,  that  the  dispute  was  susceptible  of  establishment  by  oral 
and  written  testimony,  and  therefore  battle,  which  was  an  appeal  to  the 
decision  of  God  on  the  failure  of  human  evidence,  could  not,  upon  the 
customary  rules,  be  resorted  to  ;  but  the  chief  reason  why  we  insert  this 
document  is,  because  Sir  Harris  Nicolas  has  neither  given  it  in  his 
notes,  nor  even  alluded  to  its  existence. 

It  is  entitled  "  A  letter  testimoniall,"  but  is  somewhat  strangely  de- 
scribed in  the  Harleian  Catalogue  as  "  Literse  Patentes  Alberici  de  Veer 
Com.  Oxoniensis,  quibus  testimonium  rogatus  adhibuit  suum,  in  causa 
Armorum  ventilata,  inter  Ricardum  le  Scrope  et  Robertum  Grosvenour, 
dat.  11  die  Martij,  ann.  14  R.  K.  Richardi  II." 

It  commences — 

"As  honorables  Srs  Constable  et  Mareshall  d'Engleterre  Aubry  de  Veer 
honors  et  reverence.  Pur  ceo  q.  Monsr  Richard  le  Scrop  a  chalenge 
Monsr  Robert  Grovenour  en  la  viage  nostre  Sr  le  Roy  darrein  fait  en 
Escoce  portant  ses  armes  d'azure  ove  bende  d'ore,  et  a  poursue  centre 
le  dit  MODS'.  Robert  en  vre.  honorable  Court  de  Chivalrie,  come  ley  et 
raison  de  armes  denmunde  selon  1'ordinance  roial  fait  devant  le  dit  Chi- 
valrie tanq'  ati  temps  q.  vous  lui  avez  ajuge  de  faire  son  prove  contre  le 
dit  Monsr  Robert  par  tons  proves  honorables  et  autentiques  forsprist  le  bataille 
q.  vous  eschuez  en  tons  cases  ou  vous  pouvez  avoir  autre  prouve.  Et  sur  ceo 
m'a  requis  de  vous  certifier  la  conissana  que  je  ay  en  ladite  matiere.  Si 
vous  certifie  et  tesmoigne  a  verite  par  certes  rnes  lettres  ouertees,  exse- 
lees  de  mon  seal  q.  en  la  temps  que  jay  este  arme  en  batailles  et  autres 
journees  jay  voir  et  conu  q.  le  dit  Monsr  Richard  a  porte  ses  ditz  armes 
d'azure  ove  une  bend  d'ore  et  plusieurs  de  son  norn  et  linage  qui  ont 
portez  mesme  les  armes  ove  differences  come  braunches  de  mesme  les 
nom  et  armes  et  si  en  band,  penon  et  cotearmure,  et  ny  qie  de  mes  aun- 
cestres  q.  en  mesme  le  maniere  ses  armes  susditz  ount  este  portez  en 
leur  temps  par  les  auncestres  de  dit  Monsr  Richard.  Et  Unques  en  mon 
temps  n'ay  ven  le  dit  Monsr  Robert  Grovenor,  ne  nul  de  son  nom  porter 
le  ditz  armes  devant  la  darneyr  chivache  Monsr  Sr  le  Roy  susdit  ne  ay 
oie  q.  ses  auncestres  ont  fait  devant.  Done  a  Londres  le  onzieme  jour 
deMarse,l'an  du  regne  le  Roy  Richard  second  puis  le  conquest  noevisme." 

The  above  is  inserted  in  a  miscellaneous  collection  made  by  the  Herald 

In  the  Scrope  cause  of  arms,  trial  by  battle  was,  we  have  seen, 
expressly  excluded  j  but  in  the  cause  of  Grey  de  Ruthyn  against  Hastings, 
the  proceedings  became  even  more  dramatic,  the  lie  was  given  by  the 
defendant  to  the  plaintiff  in  open  court,  and  an  appeal  to  the  arbitre- 
ment  of  arms  (not  however  even  there  allowed  it  would  seem,)  made. 
After  calling  upon  Grey  to  abandon  the  use  of  the  arms  in  dispute  5  in 


the  event  of  his  refusal,  Hastings  (following  probably  a  formula  of 
words)  thus  concludes  : — 

"  I  require  thee,  by  vertue  of  thy  knighthood,  that  thou  stand  by 
thy  word  in  thy  proper  person,  till  it  be  determined  by  our  bodies  as 
knighthood  will,  the  which  worde  thou  hast  replied  by  thine  owne 
mouth,  against  the  word  of  answeare  given  by  my  mouth  and  written 
with  my  hand,  and  ensealed  with  my  seal  in  the  same  court,  and  that 
thou  pursue  deligently  withouten  feintis  by  thee  and  thy  frendes,  that 
the  worde  be  admitted  for  full  proof,  the  which  worde  as  thy  partie 
ben  there  in  substance.  Thou  lyes  falsely  lewed  knight,  and  that  I  am 
ready  to  prove  with  my  bodye  against  thy  body,  and  therefore  here 
is  my  glove  to  wedde,  and  I  aske  day  and  place."* 

If  one  counsel  demurred  to  another  counsel's  law,  this  was  said  some 
years  ago  to  have  been  good  ground  for  a  duel  in  Dublin,  a  mode  of  pro- 
ceeding not  unreasonable  if  viewed  in  analogy  to  the  chivalrous  practice 
wherever  the  legal  point  involved  such  difficulties  in  its  decision  as  to 
transcend  human  abilities  or  ingenuity  to  unravel !  !  Then  was  the 
knot  deo  vindice  nodus,  proper  to  be  left  to  the  decision  of  God,  made 
manifest  by  the  result  of  a  duel ! ! ! 

"  On  the  part  of  Sir  Richard  Grosvenor  (says  Ormerod)  were  examined 
nearly  all  the  knights  and  gentlemen  of  Cheshire  and  Lancashire,  with 
several  of  the  Abbots  and  other  clergy,  all  of  whom  deposed  to  the 
usage  of  the  arms  by  the  Grosvenors,  and  to  having  seen  them  painted 
on  windows,  standards,  and  monuments  in  twenty  four  churches, 
chapels  and  monasteries  in  Cheshire  ;  the  family  charters  and  deeds,  with 
seals  appendant,  exhibiting  the  same  bearing,  were  produced  before  the 
court,  and  it  was  stated  on  the  authority  of  chronicles  and  monastic  re- 
cords that  all  the  ancestors  of  Sir  Robert  had  used  the  same  coat  from 
time  immemorial,  and  more  particularly  that  it  was  used  by  Gilbert  le 
Grosvt  nor,  at  the  Conquest  j  by  Ranfe  le  Grosvenor,  at  the  battle  of 
Lincoln ;  by  Robert  le  Grosvenor,  in  the  crusade  under  Richard  I.  ;  by 
Robert  1  j  Grosvenor,  in  the  Scotch  wars  under  Edward  II. ;  by  another, 
Robert,  at  Cressy,  and  in  other  battles  under  Edward  III.,  and  by  the 
claimant,  Sir  Robert  himself  as  harbinger  to  Sir  Thomas  d'Audley, 
lieutenant  to  the  Black  Prince,  and  in  Berry  Algayne,  at  the  tower  of 
Brose,  at  the  siege  of  Rocksivier,  in  Poictou,  in  Guienne,  at  Viers,  in 
Normandy,  at  the  battle  of  Poictiers,  at  the  battle  of  Najara  in  Spain, 
in  1367,  and  lastly,  at  the  battle  of  Limoges,  in  1370,  in  the  service  of 
the  Black  Prince.''  After  this  powerful  and  stringent  evidence  for  the 
defence,  the  weight  of  which  the  Lord  High  Constable  himself  acknow- 
ledges in  his  sentence  "de  la  partie  du  dit  Robert  nous  avous  trouves 
grandes  evidences  et  presumptions  semblables  en  sa  defence  des  dits 
armes,''  Sir  Peter  Leycester  may  well  have  said  without  incurring  any 
suspicion  of  a  local  or  family  prejudice,  "  both  the  said  partyes  proved 
their  auncestores  had  successively  borne  the  same  coate  of  armes  from 
the  tyme  of  the  Norman  Conquest  to  that  present,  but  Sir  Richard 
Scrope  overweighing  the  other  with  powerful  friends,  had  the  coate 
avarded  to  him.  But  although  the  sayd  Sir  Robert  Grosvenor  had  this 
coat  also  awarded  to  him,  with  the  difference  of  a  bordure,  yet  he 
refused  the  same  and  took  unto  him  the  coate  of  azure  une  garbe  d'or  ; 

*  See  a  MS.  transcript  of  proceeding  in  the  case  of  Ruthen  against  Hastings,  Harl. 
MSS.,  1178,  fol.  36. 


which  coate  his  heyres  and  successoures  have  ever  since  borne  to-this 
moment,  scorning  to  beare  the  other  coate  with  a  difference."  It  will  be  seen, 
however,  that  a  note  which  will  be  subsequently  given,  as  cited  by  Sir 
Karris  Nicholas,  from  a  Harleian  MS.,  affords  a  somewhat  different 
account  of  the  sequel  of  the  proceedings. 

On  the  side  of  Scrope  were  examined  parties  still  more  numerous,  still 
more  illustrious  for  rank,  military  fame,  and  genius,  Edmund  of  Langley, 
Duke  of  York,  John  of  Gaunt,  King  of  Castile  and  Leon,  both  uncles  of 
the  king,  Sir  John  Holand,  afterwards  Duke  of  Exeter,  he  was  brother 
to  the  king,  the  Earls  of  Derby,  Arundel,  and  Northumberland,  the  Lords 
Poynings,  Basset,  Clifford,  Dacre,  Darcy,  Grey  of  Ruthven,  and  Scales,be- 
sides  many  abbots,  and  knights,  esquires,  and  gentlemen,  among  whom 
stands  clearly  forth,  Harry  Percy  (Hotspur),  whose  spur  was  so  soon  to  be- 
come "cold.''  He  had  a  subsequent  connexion  with  the  county  of  Chester, 
by  reason  of  his  appointment  of  Judge  of  Chester,  in  which  office,  sin- 
gularly enough,  he  succeeded  William  le  Scrope,  Earl  of  Wiltshire,  the 
unfortunate  son  of  the  plaintiff,  Sir  Richard.  He  was  judge  "eo  modo 
quo  Willielmus  le  Scrop  habuit,"  and  he  had  power  to  act  by  deputy.* 
But  his  father-in-law,  Owen  Glendower,  from  his  residence  on  the  Welsh 
borders,  must  have  known  more  of  the  bearings  of  Cheshire  families, 
and  Glendower  is  one  of  the  Grosvenor  witnesses.  But  let  us  haste  to 
the  issue  of  these  accumulated  proceedings ;  we  give  it  in  the  words 
of  the  note  cited  by  the  learned  author,  from  a  Harleian  MS. 

"  The  Constables  Judgment  dyd  gyve  Mr  Scroope  thole  Armes,  & 
Mr  Grosvenor  a  hordre  whyte  to  yt  and  Grosvenour  to  paye  the  costs 
synce  he  toke  daye  of  excepc'ons  agenst  the  wytnes,  but  he  apealyd  to 
the  Kinge,  &  uttrelye  refusyd  the  newe  apoyntyd  armes  and  Judgment, 
wherfor  the  King  gave  Judgement  as  followeth 

27  Maij  A°  13,  1390,  A°  p'mo 
Bonifacij  noni  pape. 

The  K's  Judgement  geven  in  the  great  chambre  of  P'liament  wthin 
his  palyce  Royall  at  Westm'  present  wth  ym  his  uncles  the  Dukes  of 
Gwyen  &  Glowcestre,  the  Bishope  of  London,  the  Lords  John  Roos, 
Raufe  Nevyll  &  John  Lovell,  John  Dev'eux  Steward  of  his  howsse,  his 
Vycechamb'layne  Henrye  P'cye  the  sone,  Mathewe  de  Gourney,  Hugh 
Zowche,  Bryan  de  Stapleton,  Rychard  Addreburye  &  WilPmde  Far- 
ringdon  Knights  &  others,  that  tharmes  shuld  whollye  remayne  to 
Sr  Rychard  Scroope  &  his  heyres,  &  Mr  Grosvenour  to  have  no  p'te 
therof  bycawsse  he  was  a  stranger  vnto  the  same. 

And  for  the  byll  of  thexpencs  amountynge  to  iiijc  Ixvj11  xiij8  iiijd  spent 
betwene  the  9th  of  Octobre  A°  11  Rich'i  ijdi,  wch  was  the  daye  that  the 
seid  Roberte  had  taken  excepc'ons  agenst  the  wytnesses  untyll  the  27 
of  Maye  A°  13  wch  daye  the  Kinge  gave  Judgement  &  by  the  Comys- 
saryes  vidz  the  Busshoppe  of  London,  the  Lord  Cobham,  Mr  John 
Barnet,  &  Rychard  Rouhale,  hyt  was  ceassyd  to  L  m'kes,  but  aft  re  for 
that  the  seid  Roberte  wold  not  appeare  but  was  obstynate  hyt  was 
agayne  ceassyd  by  the  Kinge  to  vc  m'kes,  beinge  on  Munday  the  fyrst 
day  of  the  P'lyament  3rd  of  Octobre  A°  15  Rich'i  ij^,  these  beinge 
present,  the  Duke  of  Gwyen,  the  Archebusshoppe  of  Dyvelye,  the 
Busshopps  of  London  Chestre  &  Chychestre,  the  Erles  of  Darby 
Rutland  M'che  Arundell  Huntyngton  &  Northumb'land,  the  Lords 
Roos  Nevyll  &  Cobham  &  other. 

*  See  Ormerod's  Cheshire,  vo\.  \.  p.  58. 


Wh  seid  Som'  of  vc  m'kes  the  seyd  Sr  Roberta  Grosvenour  requestyd 
the  seyd  Sr  Rychard  Scroope  to  forgive  hym,  who  agayne  answeryd  that 
he  had  so  ivell  usyd  hym  &  belyed  hym  in  his  Awnsweres,  that  he 
des'vyd  no  courtesye  ;  who  agayne  aunswerd  hyt  was  not  his  doings 
but  his  Counsellors  to  make  his  mattre  seame  the  bettre,  and  that 
he  knewe  he  dyd  not  well  nor  seyd  trewlye  therin,  wheruppon  he  agayne 
answeryd  that  yf  he  wolde  so  openlye  declare  p'fesse  &  confesse  &  be 
content  hit  shuld  so  be  enteryd  of  recourde,  wch  he  requestyd  the  Kinge 
hit  myght  be,  that  then  he  wold  forgyve  hym,  wch  was  done  accordinglye 
and  the  Som'  forgeven  &  they  made  frynds  afor  the  Kinge  in  the 
P'lyament  howsse." 

It  needs  only  to  peruse  the  sentence  of  the  Lord  High  Constable, 
delivered  by  the  advice  of  the  marshal  and  the  "  conseille  de  chivalrie" 
to  be  certain  that  the  less  powerful  and  influential  of  the  two  parties 
was  hardly  dealt  with.  For,  although  in  a  cause  of  arms,  each  was 
quasi  an  actor  or  plaintiff,  and  therefore  the  important  principle  of  the 
civil  law  (adopted  from  its  essential  propriety  into  every  modern  system 
of  jurisprudence),  potior  est  conditio  defendentis ;  might  be  considered 
as  inapplicable,  still  no  law  of  justice  or  principle  of  reason  could  pos- 
sibly require  that  a  defendant  should,  under  any  circumstances,  have 
entailed  upon  him  the  necessity  of  a  greater  amount  of  proof  than  a 
plaintiff,  and  yet  what  says  the  Lord  High  Constable  in  his  sentence  ?* 
"  That  the  said  Sir  Richard  Scrope,  Knight,  party  actor,  has  fully  and 
sufficiently  proved  his  claim,  touching  the  said  arms  by  witnesses, 
chronicles,  and  other  sufficient  evidences,  and  that  the  said  Sir  Robert  has 
not  in  any  respect  disproved  the  proofs  of  the  said  Sir  Richard,  and  there- 
fore he  awarded,  pronounced,  and  declared  that  Scrope  should  bear  the 
entire  arms,  &c."  So  that  the  Cheshire  knight  was,  it  seems,  not  merely 
called  upon  to  prove  an  uninterrupted  use  by  himself  and  his  ancestors, 
but  to  prove  actually  the  negative,  that  no  one  else  had  a  similar  right 
to  the  same  ensigns.  Now,  that  two  parties  might  be  allowed  the 
same  arms  where  user  could  be  satisfactorily  proved  by  each  is  evident, 
because  Carminow,  had,  it  appears  in  the  course  of  these  very  proceed- 
ings been  awarded  the  selfsame  use  of  arms. 

One  of  the  Grosvenor  witnesses  deposed  that,  but  for  the  chal- 
lenge made  by  Scrope  of  the  arms  az.  a  bend  or,  Sir  Robert  Gros- 
venor would  himself  have  become  the  challenger  or  plaintiff.  Had  he 
done  so,  the  subsequent  sentence  might,  upon  similar  reasoning,  have 
been  retained,  changing  merely  the  names  of  Scrope  and  Grosvenor, 
where  these  occurred  :  for  "  the  testimony  of  two  hundred  witnesses  the 
evidence  of  chronicles  and  charters  might  be  said  to  have  sufficiently 
proved  the  claim  of  Grosvenor,  and  the  said  Sir  Richard  had  not  in  any 
respect  disproved  the  proofs  of  the  said  Sir  Robert. 

The  well  descended  wealthy  Cheshire  Knight  could  not  stand  against 
the  prestige,  and  perhaps  political  influence  of  the  warrior  statesman 
Scrope,  a  Baron  of  the  Realm  who  had  already  proved  his  own  right  in  a 
previous  suit  of  arms,  and  had  not,  according  to  Walsingham,  "  his  fel- 
low (of  his  degree)  in  the  whole  kingdom  for  prudence  and  inte- 
grity.'' It  may  be  said  without  any  injurious  conclusion,  that  Scrope 
had  for  judges,  not  merely  companions  in  arms,  but  personal  friends. 
An  impartial  reader  will  be  inclined  to  think  that  the  decisions  in 

*  Vol.  i.  p.  7. 


the  first  instance,  and  on  appeal,  involved  at  least  a  slight  to  the  rising- 
family  of  Grosvenor,  and  that  as  the  evidence  on  both  sides  tended  to  show 
a  long  use  of  the  arms  by  both  families,  it  would  have  been  a  fairer 
and  less  invidious  mode  of  proceeding  to  have  either  given  entirely  new 
bearings  to  each  claimant,  or  to  have  left  them  each  the  main  features 
of  the  ancient  insignia,  obliging  both  noblemen  to  assume  certain  differ- 
ences. When  the  gay  decorations  of  the  gondolas  of  the  Venetian 
Patricians,  commencing  in  a  pardonable  emulation,  had  at  last  led  to 
dangerous  rivalry  and  animosity,  to  feuds  on  the  quays  and  furious 
contests  and  brawls  upon  the  canals,  the  council  of  ten  dealt  summarily, 
but,  at  least,  impartially,  with  the  evil.  No  longer  did  the  lagunes 
reflect  the  gay  colours  and  floating  banners  of  any  of  the  nobles,  but 
assumed  an  appearance  more  in  harmony  with  the  gloomy  grandeur  of 
the  palaces,  and  the  solemn  majesty  of  the  more  ancient  edifices. 
Dark,  unadorned,  hearse-like  looking  boats  glided  noiselessly  upon  the 
unruffled  surface  of  the  waters,  and  but  for  the  inherent  vivacity  and 
merriment  of  the  Venetian  people,  and  the  graceful  lightness  and 
elegance  of  the  subsequent  architectural  erections  of  Palladio,  the 
brilliancy  of  its  sun,  and  the  clear  blue  of  its  heaven,  Venice  would 
in  appearance  have  anticipated  the  period  when  she  became  in  the 
language  of  modern  English  poetry,  "  the  city  of  the  dead."  The 
ordinance  in  question  forbad  any  ornaments  to  be  used  for  gondolas,  and 
prescribed  for  all  one  uniform  colour,  which  they  still  preserve  to  this 
day,  "the  sober  livery  of  solemn  black." 

What  better,whatmoreconclusiveevidence  of  the  antiquity  of  thenobility 
of  any  family  in  the  British  Peerage  than  that  here  produced  on  the  part 
of  Grosvenor  ?  Here  are  upwards  of  two  hundred  of  respectable  witnesses 
to  the  high  pretensions  of  the  family,  crying  aloud  in  the  middle  of  the 
14th  century,  in  the  presence  of  peers,  spiritual  and  temporal,  of  the  most 
renowned  knights  and  warriors  of  Crecy  and  Poictiers,  nay,  of  very  royalty 
itself,  "  Grosvenor  is  a  name  of  ancient  fame — Grosvenor  is  a  scion 
of  royal  stock — its  founder,  a  nephew  of  Hugh  Lupus,  first  Earl  of 
Chester.  Grosvenor  bore  arms  az.  a  bend  or  from  the  Conquest.'' 
Grosvenor  is  our  kinsman,  ejaculate  members  of  some  of  the  oldest 
houses  of  Cheshire,  the  Breretons,  the  Davenports,  the  Vernons,  the 
Etons,  the  Leycesters,  the  Stanleys,  and  the  Daniels,  &e.  What,  though 
some  state  themselves  to  be  "  cosyns  del  dit  Mons.  Robert,  only,  en 
le  tierce  et  quarte  degres,"  the  more  distant  the  relationship  the  more 
remote  the  common  ancestor,  the  more  remote  the  common  ancestor 
the  more  ancient  the  family.  But  the  nobility,  that  is  the  gentle  blood 
of  the  house  of  Grosvenor,  was  not  in  question  at  that  early  period,  for 
the  proceedings  themselves  style  the  defendant  "nobilem  virum  Rober- 
tum  Grosvenor  militem."* 

No  exception  was  taken  to  the  nobility  of  the  house  but  only  to  its  right 
to  bear  the  particular  arms.  But  who  was  that  Carminow  of  Cornwall, 
styled  by  Sir  Harris  Nicolas  (on  what  authority  we  know  not  as  we  find  it 
not  in  these  depositions)  an  Esquire?  Who  was  the  party  calledt  "  un  dez 
Carmynaue  de  Cornewall,"  who  succeeded  in  a  contest  in  which  Grosve- 
nor failed  ?  Did  he  triumphantly  vindicate  his  claim  to  the  arms,  by  the 

*  Vol.  i.  pp.  15  and  23. 

t  See  deposition  of  John  Tapcliffe,  Esquire,  vol.  i,  p.  213—4. 


intrinsic  merits  of  his  case  or  by  the  intercession  of  powerful  friends  or 
the  employment  of  court  favor?  Of  the  family,  Collins*  tells  us  that 
was  considered  the  most  considerable  in  Cornwall  for  antiquity  and  pos- 
sessions. About  the  time  of  the  proceedings  in  question,  it  numbered 
amongst  its  members  at  least  three  knights,  Sir  Oliver,  Sir  Thomas,  and 
Sir  Walter,  and  amongst  its  alliances  by  marriage  (unerring  sign  of  ancient 
blood)  some  of  the  oldest  names  in  Cornwall.  At  a  subsequent  period  John 
Carminow  of  Resprins  was  more  famous  for  his  wealth  than  any  other 
of  his  name  or  house,  or  than  any  other  family  in  Cornwall.  His  Christmas 
entertainments  are  recorded  to  have  been  on  an  extraordinary  scale  of  mu- 
nificent hospitality,  the  allowance  for  twelve  days  being  twelve  bullocks, 
fifty  bushels  of  wheat,  thirty-six  sheep,  besides  hogs,  lambs  and  fowls  of  all 
sorts.  His  son,  however,  squandered  away  the  greater  part  of  his  inhe- 
ritance, and  the  rest  passed  through  coheiresses  to  the  Boscawens,  Earls 
of  Falmouth.  The  last  heir  male  of  the  Carminows  died  in  1646,  but 
several  of  the  most  noted  county  families,  the  Coles,  Courtenays,Prideaux, 
Trevanions  and  Arundels  of  Lanherne,  denote  by  their  quarterings  their 
descent  from  female  heiresses  of  different  branches  of  that  ancient  stock. 

"  It  is  a  melancholy  reflection  to  look  back  on  so  many  great  families, 
(says  Dr.  Borlase,and  he  ranks  Carminow  amongst  them)  as  have  formerly 
adorned  the  county  of  Cornwall  and  are  now  no  more  The  most 
lasting  families  have  only  their  seasons,  more  or  less,  of  a  certain  con- 
stitutional strength.  They  have  their  spring  and  summershine  glares, 
their  wane,  decline,  and  death  j  they  flourish  and  shine  perhaps  for  ages  -, 
at  last  they  sicken  5  their  light  grows  pale  and  at  a  crisis  when  the  offsets 
are  withered  and  the  old  stock  is  blasted,  the  whole  tribe  disappears  and 
leaves  the  world  as  they  have  done  Cornwall.  There  are  limits  ordained 
to  everything  under  the  sun.  Man  will  not  abide  in  honour.  Of  all  human 
vanities,  family  pride  is  one  of  the  weakest.  Reader,  go  thy  way  :  secure 
thy  name  in  the  book  of  life,  where  the  page  fades  not,  nor  the  title  alters, 
nor  expires  ;  leave  the  rest  to  Heralds,  and  the  Parish  register." 

Who,  however,  we  repeat,  was  the  "  one  called  Carminow  of  Cornwall," 
mentioned  in  the  depositions  of  John  of  Gaunt  and  John  Rither,  Esquier, 
as  having  successfully  resisted  the  exclusive  right  of  the  Scropes  to  the 
arms  az.  a  bend  or  ?  The  Christian  name  is  fixed  by  another  witness,  a 
relative,  Sir  Thomas  Fychett,  who  states  that  "  Thomas  Carminow  of 
Cornwall,  who  is  his  relation,  had  a  controversy  with  the  said  Sir  Richard 
and  his  lineage,  on  account  of  the  said  arms,  in  France,  before  the  Earl 
of  Northampton,  the  which  Thomas  Carminow  proved  these  arms  from 
the  time  of  King  Arthur,  and  the  said  Sir  Richard  from  the  time  of 
King  William  the  Conqueror  j  whereupon  it  was  agreed,  that  as  the  said 
Thomas  Carminow  had  proved  usage  before  the  Conquest,  he  ought  of 
right  to  bear  them :  and  that  the  said  Sir  Richard  might  also  bear 
them,  he  having  proved  his  right  from  the  time  of  King  William  the 

The  individual  thus  selected  for  attack  byScrope  must  have  been  one 
of  the  heads  of  his  family,  who  then  could  he  be  but  the  Thomas  Car- 
minow (mentioned  in  Lysons'  Cornwall),  afterwards  knighted,  who  be- 
came Lord  Chamberlain  to  Richard  II.,  and  who  married  Elizabeth, 
daughter  of  Joan  Plantagenet,  the  fair  maid  of  Kent,  and  therefore  sister 

*  Peerage,  vol.  vii.  p.  273. 


of  the  half  blood  to  the  King,  and  sister  of  the  whole  blood  to  Sir  Thomas 
Holland,  Duke  of  Exeter,  another  of  the  deponents  in  this  cause  ?  Ac- 
cording to  the  Carminow  pedigree  in  Polwhele's  Cornwall,  the  cham- 
berlainship  is  assigned  to  an  earlier  ancestor  and  an  impossible  date  (1 348.) 
And  here  again  a  suspicion  suggests  itself  of  a  counter  court  favour  in- 
fluencing the  decision,  arid  neutralizing  the  influence  of  the  Scrope.  Be 
this,  however,  as  it  may,  the  Carminows  and  the  Scropes  were  allowed  to 
bear  simultaneously  the  same  ensigns.* 

Certainly  the  absence  of  colours,  or  any  mark  to  indicate  colour- 
ing, on  the  sepulchral  effigies,  would  constitute  these  a  very  inadequate 
proof  of  the  user  of  disputed  arms ;  and  accordingly  one  of  the  deponents, 
Adam  Newson  (vol.  i.  p.  68),  stated  "that  Sir  Robert  Grovenour  sprung 
from  the  Grovenours  of  the  county  of  Chester,  whose  ancestors  lie  buried 
in  the  Abbey  of  Chester,  but,"  he  added,  "  the  arms  were  not  pour- 
trayed  in  colours  on  their  bodies."  But  still,  this  was  not  always  so  as  to 
their  monuments,  and  the  objection  does  not  apply  to  stained  windows. 

The  arms  in  question  were  of  great  simplicity,  and  without  an  effi- 
cient Herald's  College :  and  in  a  kingdom  surrounded  by  distinct 
enemies  (the  Scotch,  the  French,  the  Welsh),  whose  knights,  until  the 
French  wars  in  the  reign  of  Edward  III.,  rarely,  it  may  be  supposed, 
served  much  together,  but  were  divided  to  encounter  their  various  ene- 
mies, was  it  extraordinary,  that  in  remote  parts  of  the  same  kingdom, 
three  families  had  long  used,  unconsciously  it  may  have  been,  the  same 
arms.  The  Carminow  of  Cornwall,  which,  in  the  words  of  one  of  the 
deponents,  "  had  formerly  been  a  kingdom  j"  the  Scropes  of  Yorkshire, 
and  the  Grosvenors  of  the  County  Palatine  (almost  another  little  king- 
dom) of  Chester. 

In  our  view,  it  was  not  until  this  reign  (that  of  Richard  II.),  that  the 
coincidences  of  armorial  bearings  came  to  be  much  considered,  the 
nature  of  the  right  to  bear  them  questioned,  or  that  blazonry  became  a 
science.  It  would  seem  about  this  time,  from  the  frequency  of  the 
causes  brought  before  the  Court  of  Chivalry,  that  the  military  forces 
that  had  been  assembled  from  all  parts  of  the  kingdom  for  the  French 
wars,  had  brought  together  many  distinct  families  with  the  same  cogni- 
zances, which  they  then  only  for  the  tirst  time  became  aware  that 
they  had  borne  concurrently.  It  was  worthy  of  note,  in  an  heraldic 
point  of  view,  that  no  heralds  were  called  to  give  evidence  upon  the 
subject-matter  of  controversy,  from  which  the  conclusion  is  legitimate, 
that  at  that  period  no  evidences  were  preserved  by  them  of  right  to  arms, 
otherwise  the  omission  of  the  ancestral  bearings  of  a  house  so  ancient, 
so  powerful,  and  so  influential,  as  that  of  Scrope  undoubtedly  was,  would 
be  wholly  inexplicable. 

One  singular  feature  in  this  trial  is  the  strong  bias  in  the  minds  of  the 
sets  of  witnesses,  in  behalf  of  the  respective  parties  by  whom  they 
were  called  j  an  instance  of  how  strong  was  the  fteling,in  feudal  times, 
to  run  to  clanship  and  rally  around  a  great  name. 

The  author  appears  to  have  doubted  at  one  time  whether  the  Hugh 

*  According  to  Polwhele  the  order  was  somewhat  different,  "  as  Scrope  was  a  baron 
of  the  realm,  it  was  ordered  that  Carminow  should  still  bear  the  same  coat,  but  with  a 
pile  in  chief  gules  for  distinction  ;  on  which  Carminow  took  up  the  Cornish  motto. 
*'  Calarag  Whethlow,"  "  a  straw  for  a  talebearer."— (Language  and  Literature  of  Corn, 

VOL.   IV.    NO.   XVII.  R 


Calverley,  who  made  a  deposition  in  the  cause,  was  the  celebrated  war- 
rior, Hugh  ?  But  it  seems,  from  the  before  cited  note  of  the  pro- 
ceedings, in  the  Harleian  MS.,  1178,  p.  191  (b),  that  Hugh  Calverley, 
Knight,  acted  on  one  occasion  as  deputy  for  the  Constable,  May  6,  1386. 
Now  he  could  hardly  be  both  judge  and  witness. 

Thus,  reader,  have  we  at  length  fulfilled  our  task,  and  have  endea- 
voured, by  a  comparatively  brief  narrative,  to  turn  your  attention  to  a 
singular  judicial  pageant  of  the  fourteenth  century,  to  a  spectacle  in 
which  kings,  poets,  statesmen,  and  warriors  were  actors,  England  the 
stage,  the  world  of  Chivalry  the  audience,  and  the  subject  that  charac- 
teristic creation  of  knightly  honour  and  feudal  institutions,  "Cotearmure." 
Would  we  study  the  genius,  the  manners  of  a  people,  where  should  we 
better  seek  them  than  in  these  graphic  delineations  of  national  wisdom 
or  folly,  these  contemporary  records  that  hold  a  faithful  mirror  to  the 
age,  and  fix  the  reflection  for  the  study,  the  admiration,  or  the  marvel  of 
future  generations?  A  remark,  we  believe  it  is,  of  Mr.  Hallam,  that  the 
character,  the  individuality  of  a  distinct  people,  is  lost  sight  of,  or  vainly 
looked  for  in  the  abstract  page  of  general  history ;  and  if  we  would 
really  know  what  manner  of  men  our  ancestors  were,  what  they  did,  how 
they  felt  and  thought,  we  must  approach  them  in  the  chronicles,  the 
books  of  letters,  or  familiar  literature  of  their  day.  How,  we  may  con- 
fidently ask,  can  we  better  acquaint  ourselves  with  the  lives  and  opinions 
and  sentiments  of  our  steel-clad  progenitors  (coevals  of  the  Black  Prince) 
than  by  a  perusal  of  what  they  say  in  the  case  of  Scrope  and  Grosvenor  ? 
Many  a  patient  antiquary  has,  perhaps,  in  former  times  applied  himself 
to  the  labour  (to  him  a  labour  of  love)  of  decyphering  the  faded,  con- 
tracted text,  of  perusing  the  Law  Latin  and  the  Norman  French,  in 
which  the  testimony  of  abbots  and  priors,  of  nobles  and  knights,  lies 
confounded  together  in  the  lengthy  parchments  of  the  Scrope  and  Gros- 
venor roll,  and  if  all  difficulties  surmounted,  he  who  runs  may  now 
read,  the  praise,  the  honour  is  due  to  the  untiring  exertions  of  Sir  Harris 
Nicolas.  His  two  volumes  we  have  perused  with  profit  and  pleasure, 
and  shall  look  forward  with  interest  to  the  third  and  concluding  volume, 
long  ago  promised,  and  too  long  deferred,  in  which  the  author  proposes 
to  give  us  a  history  of  the  influential  house  of  Grosvenor,  and  to  com- 
plete his  biographical  notices  of  thfe  remaining  witnesses.  * 

*  Sir  Peter  Leycester  made  extracts  from  an  account  of  the  pleadings  in  the  suit, 
and  collated  them  with  the  originals  in  the  Tower.  The  extracts  exist  among  the 
Tabley  Papers,  but  the  Grosvenor  transcript  is,  we  believe,  said  to  be  lost. 




MACDUFF.     O  horror!  horror  !  horror!  Tongue  nor  heart  cannot  conceive, 

nor  name  thee  ! 

MACBETH,  LENNOX.     What's  the  matter  ? 
MACDUFF.     Confusion  now  hath  made  his  masterpiece  ! 

Most  sacrilegious  murder  hath  broke  ope 

The  Lord's  anointed  temple,  and  stole  thence 

The  life  o'  the  building. 

MACBETH.  What  is't  you  say  ?  the  life  ? 

LENNOX.     Mean  you  his  maj  esty  ? 


JAMES  I.,  the  British  Solomon,  whom  the  Duke  of  Sulley  termed  the 
wisest  fool  in  Europe,  ended  his  life  and  reign  of  questionable  repute 
peaceably  enough.  His  death  happened  the  27th  March,  1625,  in  the 
fifty-ninth  year  of  his  age,  and  the  twenty-third  of  his  sovereignty. 
His  indisposition  was  at  first  considered  a  tertian  ague,  afterwards  the 
gout  in  the  stomach;  but,  whatever  was  its  real  nature,  under  his 
obstinacy  in  refusing  medicine,  and  the  hesitation  or  ignorance  of  his 
physicians,  it  proved  fatal.  On  the  eleventh  day  he  received  the  sacra- 
ment in  the  presence  of  his  son,  his  favourite,  and  his  attendants,  with  a 
serenity  of  mind  and  fervour  of  devotion  which  drew  tears  from  the 
eyes  of  the  beholders.  "  Being  told  that  men  in  holy  orders  in  the  church 
of  England  doe  challange  a  power  as  inhaerent  in  their  function  and  not 
in  their  person,  to  pronounce  and  declare  remission  of  sins  to  such  as 
being  penitent  doe  call  for  the  same  ;  he  answered  suddenly,  I  have  ever 
beleeved  there  was  the  power  in  you  that  be  in  the  orders  in  the  church 
of  England,  and  therefore  I,  a  miserable  sinner,  doe  humbly  desire 
Almighty  God  to  absolve  me  of  my  sinnes,  and  you,  that  are  his  servant 
in  that  high  place,  to  affoord  me  this  heavenly  comfort.  And  after  the 
absolution  read  and  pronounced,  hee  received  the  sacrament  with  the 
zeale  and  devotion,  as  if  he  had  not  been  a  fraile  man,  but  a  cherubin 
cloathed  with  flesh  and  blood."  Early  on  the  fourteenth  he  sent  for 
Charles  :  but  before  the  prince  could  reach  the  chamber,  the  king  had 
lost  the  faculty  of  speech,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours  expired,  in 
the  fifty-ninth  year  of  his  age,  and  the  twenty-third  of  his  reign.  Of 
his  seven  children,  three  sons  and  four  daughters,  two  only  survived 
him  ;  Charles,  his  successor  on  the  throne,  and  Elizabeth,  the  titular 
queen  of  Bohemia. 

We  now  come  to  that  regal  death,  which,  on  the  part  of  him  who  endured 
it  was  the  most  glorious  in  the  annals  of  English  history.  Let  his  errors 
have  been  what  they  may,  one  cannot  recur  to  that  terrible  termination 
of  the  life  of  Charles  I.,  without  feelings  of  deep  reverence,  awe,  and 
admiration.  Charles,  with  his  cavaliers  about  him,  supported  the  prin- 
ciple of  monarchy  against  rebellion  in  arms.  Again,  when  defenceless 
and  alone,  in  the  power  of  his  ruthless  enemies,  he  maintained  unflinch- 

R  2 


ingly  the  same  principle  against  rebellion  triumphant.  He  sanctified 
that  principle  in  his  blood,  and  by  doing  so,  saved  the  constitution. 
During  the  long  period  of  republicanism,  and  then  anarchy  which 
ensued,  the  sight  of  a  king  dying  on  the  scaffold  for  his  cause  passed 
not  from  the  recollection  of  his  people.  The  fact  was  there,  impressed 
upon  and  irremoveable  from  the  minds  of  men,  that  the  commonwealth 
party,  to  obtain  dominion,  had  been  forced  to  cut  the  king's  head  off 
with  the  crown  upon  it.  He  had  yielded  nothing — forfeited  nothing. 
The  principle  of  monarchy  remained— obscured  indeed,  but  sparkling 
ever  and  anon,  and  ready  at  any  moment  to  burst  forth  into  permanent 
brilliancy  again.  It  was,  to  use  the  words  of  the  poet,  a 

Glimpse  of  glory  ne'er  forgot 

Which  told  like  the  gleam  on  a  sunset  sea 

What  once  had  been,  what  then  was  not, 
But  oh  !  what  again  would  brightly  be. 

And  yet,  with  all  his  spirit  and  determination,  how  like  a  Christian 
Charles  met  the  approach  of  his  fearful  death.  There  was  not  one  par- 
ticle of  ostentation  in  his  courage,  or  his  piety.  He  evinced  the  meek- 
ness and  resolution  of  a  martyr.  His  very  conduct  on  the  scaffold 
awoke  the  crowd  around  him  to  the  deep  damnation  of  his  taking  off. 
His  death  was  indeed  the  triumph  of  his  cause. 

The  details  of  the  martyrdom  of  King  Charles  are  so  familiar,  that 
it  would  seem  almost  unnecessary  to  insert  them  here,  yet  the  omission 
would  go  to  exclude  the  most  important  portion  of  this  regal  necrology  : 
moreover,  the  narrative  cannot  be  read  too  often,  for,  it  is  right  that,  at 
every  opportunity,  we  should 

question  this  most  bloody  piece  of  work 

And  know  it  farther. 

Charles  as  is  well  known,  underwent  a  mock  trial  before  the  sham 
High  Court  of  Justice.  He  denied  and  rejected  its  authority,  jurisdic- 
tion or  legality,  and  he  was  sentenced  by  it  to  be  beheaded.  This  doom 
was  pronounced  on  Saturday,  the  27th  January,  1649.  The  court,  after 
judgment  given,  went  into  the  Painted- Chamber,  and  appointed  Sir 
Hardress  Waller,  Ireton,  Harrison,  Dean  and  Okey,  to  consider  of  the 
time  and  place  for  the  execution. 

The  king  was  taken  by  the  guards  to  Sir  Robert  Cotton's  house,  and 
as  he  passed  down  stairs,  the  rude  soldiers  scoffed  at  him,  blew  the  smoke 
of  their  tobacco  in  his  face  (a  thing  always  very  offensive  to  him) 
strewed  pieces  of  pipes  in  his  way,  and  one,  more  insolent  than  the  rest, 
spit  in  his  face,  which  his  majesty  patiently  wiped  off,  taking  no  further 
notice  of  it :  and  as  he  passed  farther,  hearing  some  of  them  cry  out, 
Justice,  justice,  and  execution,  he  said,  "  Alas  !  poor  souls,  for  a  piece  of 
money,  they  would  do  as  much  for  their  commanders."  Afterwards  the 
king  hearing  that  his  execution  was  determined  to  be  the  next  day, 
before  his  palace  at  Whitehall,  he  sent  an  officer  in  the  army  to  desire 
that  he  might  see  his  children  before  his  death,  and  that  Dr.  Juxon, 
Bishop  of  London,  might  be  permitted  to  assist  him  in  his  private 
devotions,  and  receiving  the  sacrament,  both  which  were  granted  to  him 
upon  a  motion  to  the  parliament. 

Next  day  being  Sunday,  he  was  attended  by  a  guard  to  St.  James's, 
where  the  bishop  preached  before  him  upon  these  words  :  "  In  the  day 


when  God  shall  judge  the  secrets  of  all  men  by  Jesus  Christ,  according 
to  my  gospel.'' 

The  same  day  that  the  warrant  was  signed  for  his  execution,  the 
Duke  of  Gloucester,  and  the  Lady  Elizabeth,  were  brought  to  him, 
whom  he  received  with  great  joy  and  satisfaction,  and  giving  his 
blessing  to  the  princess,  he  bade  her  remember  to  tell  her  brother 
James,  that  he  should  no  more  look  upon  Charles  as  his  elder  brother 
only,  but  as  his  sovereign,  and  forgive  their  father's  enemies.  Then 
taking  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  upon  his  knee,  said,  Sweet  heart,  now 
they  will  cut  off  thy  father's  head,  (at  which  words  the  child  looked 
very  wishfully  upon  him).  Mark,  child,  what  I  say  $  they  will  cut  off  my 
head,  and,  perhaps,  make  thee  a  king:  but  mark  what  I  say,  you  must 
not  be  a  king  so  long  as  your  brothers  Charles  and  James  are  alive  j  for 
they  will  cut  off  your  brothers'  heads,  as  soon  as  they  can  catch  them, 
and  cut  thy  head  off  too  at  last,  and  therefore  I  charge  you,  do  not  be 
made  a  king  by  them.  At  which  the  child  sighing,  said,  "  I  will  be 
torn  in  pieces  first." 

The  warrant  for  his  Majesty's  execution  was  signed  on  the  2Qth,  and 
ran  thus : — 

"Whereas  Charles  Stewart,  king  of  England,  is,  and  standeth  convicted* 
attainted  and  condemned  of  high-treason,  and  other  high  crimes,  and  sentence* 
upon  Saturday  last,  was  pronounced  against  him  by  this  court,  to  be  put  to 
death,  by  the  severing  of  his  head  from  his  body  ;  of  which  sentence  execution 
yet  remaineth  to  be  done  :  These  are  therefore  to  will  and  require  you  to  see 
the  said  sentence  executed  in  the  open  street,  before  Whitehall,  upon  the 
morrow,  being  the  30th  day  of  January,  between  the  hours  of  ten  in  the 
morning  and  five  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  with  full  effect,  and  for 
so  doing,  this  shall  be  your  sufficient  warrant,  and  these  are  to  require  all  officers, 
soldiers,  and  others  the  good  people  of  this  nation  of  England,  to  be  assisting 
unto  you  in  this  service. 

To  Colonel  Francis  -Hacker,  Colonel  Huncks  and 

Lieutenant-Colonel  Phory,  and  to  every  of  them. 

Given  under  our  hands  and  seals,  sealed  and  subscribed  by 

John  Bradshaw,  Thomas  Horton,  Henry  Martin, 

Thomas  Grey,  John  Jones,  Vincent  Potter, 

Oliver  Cromwell,  John  More,  William  Constable, 

Edward  Whaley,  Hardress  Waller,  Richard  Ingoldsby, 

Michael  Livesay,  Gilbert  Millington,  William  Cawley, 

John  Okey,  John  Alured,  John  Barkstead, 

John  Peters,  Robert  Lilburn,  Isaac  Ewers, 

John  Bouchier,  William  Say,  John  Dixwell, 

Henry  Ireton,  Anthony  Stapeley,  Valentine  Walton, 

Thos.  Mauleverer,  Richard  Dean,  Gregory  Norton, 

John  Blackiston,  Robert  Titchburn,  Thomas  Challoner, 

John  Hutchinson,  Humphrey  Edwards,  Thomas  Wogan, 

William  Goffe,  Daniel  Blagrave,  JohnVen,  M 

Thomas  Pride,  Owen  Roe,  Gregory  Clement, 

Peter  Temple,  William  Purefoy,  John  Downs, 

Thomas  Harrison,  Adrian  Scrope,j  Thomas  Temple, 

John  Huson,  James  Temple.  Thomas  Scot, 

Henry  Smith,  Augustine  Garland,  John  Carew, 

Peregrine  Pelham,  Edmond  Ludlow,  Miles  Corbet. 
Simon  Meyne, 

On  the  next  day,  being  the  30th  January,  the  Bishop  of  London  read 
divine  service  in  his  presence,  and  the  2rth  of  St.  Matthew,  the  history 


of  our  Saviour's  passion,  being  appointed  by  the  church  for  that  day,  he 
gave  the  bishop  thanks  for  his  seasonable  choice  of  the  lesson ;  but  the 
bishop  acquainting  him  that  it  was  the  service  of  the  day,  it  comforted 
him  exceedingly,  and  then  he  proceeded  to  receive  the  holy  sacrament. 
His  devotions  being  ended,  he  was  brought  from  St.  James's  to  White- 
hall, by  a  regiment  of  foot,  part  before,  and  part  behind,  with  a  private 
guard  of  partisans  about  him,  the  Bishop  of  London  on  the  one  hand, 
and  Colonel  Tomlinson,  who  had  the  charge  of  him,  on  the  other, 
bareheaded.  The  guards  marched  at  a  slow  pace,  the  king  bade  them 
go  faster,  saying,  that  he  now  went  before  them  to  strive  for  a  heavenly 
crown,  with  less  solicitude  than  he  had  often  encouraged  his  soldiers 
to  fight  for  an  earthly  diadem.  Being  come  to  the  end  of  the  park,  he 
went  up  the  stairs  leading  to  the  long  gallery  in  Whitehall,  where 
formerly  he  used  to  lodge,  and  there  finding  an  unexpected  delay,  the 
scaffold  being  not  ready,  he  past  most  of  the  time  in  prayer.  About 
twelve  o'clock  (his  Majesty  refusing  to  dine,  only  ate  a  bit  of  bread  and 
drank  a  glass  of  claret)  Colonel  Hacker,  with  other  officers  and  soldiers, 
brought  the  king,  with  the  bishop,  and  Colonel  Tomlinson,  through  the 
banqueting-house,  to  the  scaffold,  a  passage  being  made  through  a 
window.  There  might  have  been  nothing  mysterious  in  the  delay  :  if 
there  was,  it  may  perhaps  be  explained  from  the  following  circumstance. 

Four  days  had  now  elapsed  since  the  arrival  of  ambassadors  from  the 
Hague  to  intercede  in  his  favour.  It  was  only  on  the  preceding  evening 
that  they  had  obtained  audiences  of  the  two  houses,  and  hitherto  no 
answer  had  been  returned.  In  their  company  came  Seymour,  the  bearer 
of  two  letters  from  the  prince  of  Wales,  one  addressed  to  the  king,  the 
other  to  Lord  Fairfax.  He  had  already  delivered  the  letter,  and  with  it  a 
sheet  of  blank  paper  subscribed  with  the  name  and  sealed  with  the 
arms  of  the  prince.  It  was  the  price  which  he  offered  to  the  grandees 
of  the  army  for  the  life  of  his  father.  Let  them  fill  it  up  with  the  con. 
ditions  :  whatever  they  might  be,  they  were  already  granted :  his  seal 
and  signature  were  affixed.  It  is  not  improbable  that  this  offer  may 
have  induced  the  leaders  to  pause.  That  Fairfax  laboured  to  postpone 
the  execution,  was  always  asserted  by  his  friends;  and  we  have  evidence 
to  prove  that,  though  he  was  at  Whitehall,  he  knew  not,  or  at  least 
pretended  not  to  know,  what  was  passing. 

In  the  mean  while  Charles  enjoyed  the  consolation  of  learning  that 
his  son  had  not  forgotten  him  in  his  distress.  By  the  indulgence  of 
Colonel  Tomlinson,  Seymour  was  admitted,  delivered  the  letter,  and 
received  the  royal  instructions  for  the  prince.  He  was  hardly  gone, 
when  Hacker  arrived  with  the  fatal  summons.  About  two  o'clock 
the  king  proceeded  through  the  long  gallery,  lined  on  each  side  with 
soldiers,  who,  far  from  insulting  the  fallen  monarch,  appeared  by  their 
sorrowful  looks  to  sympathise  with  his  fate.  At  the  end  an  aperture  had 
been  made  in  the  wall,  through  which  he  stepped  at  once  upon  the 
scaffold.  It  was  hung  with  black  :  at  the  further  end  were  seen  the  two 
executioners,  the  block,  and  the  axe  j  below  appeared  in  arms  several 
regiments  of  horse  and  foot ;  and  beyond,  as  far  as  the  eye  was  per- 
mitted to  reach,  waved  a  dense  and  countless  crowd  of  spectators.  The 
king  stood  collected  and  undismayed  amidst  the  apparatus  of  death. 
There  was  in  his  countenance  that  cheerful  intrepidity,  in  his  demeanour 
that  dignified  calmness,  uhich  had  characterised,  in  the  hall  of  Forther- 
ingay,  his  royal  grandmother,  Mary  Stuart.  A  strong  guard  of  several 


regiments  of  horse  and  foot,  were  planted  on  all  sides,  which  hindered  the 
near  approach  of  the  people,  and  the  king  being  upon  the  scaffold, 
chiefly  directed  his  speech  to  the  bishop  and  Colonel  Tomlinson,  to  this 
purpose  : — 

I  shall  be  very  little  heard  of  any  body  else ;  I  shall  therefore  speak 
a  word  to  you  here :  Indeed,  I  could  have  held  my  peace  well,  if  I  did 
not  think  that  holding  my  peace  would  make  some  men  think  that 
I  did  submit  to  the  guilt,  as  well  as  the  punishment ;  but  I  think  it  is 
my  duty  to  God  first,  and  then  to  my  country,  to  clear  myself,  both  as 
an  honest  man,  a  good  king,  and  a  good  Christian.  I  shall  begin  first 
with  my  innocency,  and,  in  troth,  I  think  it  not  very  needful  to  insist 
long  upon  this;  for  all  the  world  knows,  that  1  did  never  begin  a  war 
with  the  two  houses  of  parliament,  and  I  call  God  to  witness,  unto 
whom  I  must  shortly  make  an  account,  that  I  did  never  intend  to 
encroach  upon  their  privileges  ;  they  began  upon  me.  It  is  the  militia 
they  began  upon;  they  confessed  the  militia  was  mine,  but  they  thought 
tit  to  have  it  from  me :  And,  to  be  short,  if  any  body  will  look  to  the 
dates  of  commission,  of  their  commissions  and  mine,  and  likewise  to 
the  declaration,  he  will  see  clearly,  that  they  began  these  troubles,  and 
not  I.  So  as  for  the  guilt  of  these  enormous  crimes  that  are  laid  against 
me,  I  hope  that  God  will  clear  me.  I  will  not,  for  I  am  in  charity,  and 
God  forbid  I  should  lay  it  upon  the  two  houses  of  parliament,  there  is 
no  necessity  for  either:  I  hope  they  are  free  of  this  guilt j  but 
I  believe,  that  ill  instruments  between  them  and  me,  have  been  the  cause 
of  all  this  bloodshed  ;  so  that  as  I  find  myself  clear  of  this,  I  hope,  and 
pray  God,  that  they  may  too :  Yet,  for  all  this,  God  forbid  I  should  be 
so  ill  a  Christian,  as  not  to  say  God's  judgments  are  just  upon  me. 
Many  times  he  doth  pay  justice  by  an  unjust  sentence — that  is  ordinary, 
I  will  say  this,  that  an  unjust  sentence  that  I  suffered  to  take  effect,  is 
punished  by  an  unjust  sentence  upon  me:  So  far  I  have  said,  to  shew 
you,  that  I  am  an  innocent  man. 

Now,  to  show  that  I  am  a  good  Christian,  I  hope  there  is  a  good 
man  [pointing  to  the  bishop]  that  will  bear  me  witness,  that  I  have  for- 
given all  the  world,  and  even  those  in  particular  that  have  been  the  cause 
of  my  death  ;  who  they  are,  God  knows  ;  I  do  not  desire  to  know :  I 
pray  God  forgive  them.  But  this  is  not  all,  my  charity  must  go  farther  ; 
I  wish  that  they  may  repent.  Indeed,  they  have  committed  a  great  sin 
in  that  particular.  1  pray  God,  with  St.  Stephen,  that  it  be  not  laid 
to  their  charge ;  and  withal,  that  they  may  take  the  way  to  the  peace  of 
the  kingdom  ;  for  my  charity  commands  me  not  only  to  forgive  particular 
men,  but  endeavour  to  the  last  gasp,  the  peace  of  the  kingdom.  So, 
Sirs,  I  do  wish  with  all  my  soul  (I  see  there  are  some  here  that  will 
carry  it  farther)  the  peace  of  the  kingdom.  Sirs,  I  must  show  you  how 
you  are  out  of  the  way,  and  put  you  in  the  way.  First,  You  are  out  of 
the  way  ;  for  certainly  all  the  ways  you  ever  had  yet,  as  far  as  ever  I 
could  find  by  any  thing,  are  wrong.  If  in  the  way  of  conquest,  certainly 
this  is  an  ill  way  ;  for  conquest,  in  my  opinion,  is  never  just,  except 
there  be  a  good  and  just  cause,  either  tor  matter  or  wrong,  or  a  just 
title ;  and  then  if  you  go  beyond  the  first  quarrel,  that  makes  that 
unjust  at  the  end  that  was  just  at  first;  for  if  there  be  only  matter  of 
conquest,  then  it  is  a  robbery,  as  a  pirate  said  to  Alexander,  that  he  was 
a  great  robber,  himself  was  bat  a  petty  robber.  And  so,  Sirs,  1  think 
for  the  way  that  you  are  in,  you  are  much  out  of  the  way.  Now,  Sirs, 


to  put  you  in  the  way,  believe  it,  you  shall  never  go  right,  nor  God  will 
never  prosper  you,  until  you  give  God  his  due,  the  king  his  due  (that 
is  my  successor)  and  the  people  their  due :  I  am  as  much  for  them  as 
any  of  you.  You  must  give  God  his  due,  by  regulating  the  church 
(according  to  the  Scripture)  which  is  now  out  of  order  j  and  to  set  you 
in  a  way  particularly  now,  I  cannot;  but  only  this,  a  national  synod 
freely  called,  freely  debating  among  themselves,  must  settle  this,  when 
every  opinion  is  freely  heard.  For  the  king  (then  turning  to  a  gentle- 
man that  touched  the  axe,  he  said,  hurt  not  the  axe  that  may  hurt  me). 
Indeed,  I  will  not — the  laws  of  the  land  will  clearly  instruct  you  for  that  j 
therefore,  because  it  concerns  my  own  particular,  I  give  you  a  touch 
of  it.  For  the  people,  truly  I  desire  their  liberty  and  freedom  as 
much  as  any  body  whosoever  j  hut  I  must  tell  you,  that  their  liberty 
and  freedom  consists  in  having  government  under  those  laws,  by  which 
their  lives  and  their  goods  may  be  most  their  own.  It  is  not  in  having 
a  share  in  the  government,  that  is  nothing  appertaining  to  them :  A 
subject  and  a  sovereign  are  clear  differing  things,  and  therefore,  until 
you  do  that,  I  mean,  that  you  put  the  people  into  that  liberty,  as  I  say, 
they  will  never  enjoy  themselves. 

Sirs,  it  was  for  this  that  now  I  am  come  hither,  for  if  I  would  have 
given  way  to  an  arbitrary  course,  to  have  all  laws  changed,  according  to 
the  power  of  the  sword,  I  need  not  to  have  come  here;  and  therefore  I 
tell  you,  (and  I  pray  God  it  be  not  laid  to  your  charge)  that  I  am  the 
martyr  of  the  people.  In  troth,  Sirs,  I  shall  not  hold  you  any  longer  : 
I  will  only  say  this  to  you,  that  I  could  have  desired  a  little  time  longer, 
because  I  would  have  a  little  better  digested  this  I  have  said,  and  there- 
fore I  hope  you  will  excuse  me;  I  have  delivered  my  conscience,  I  pray 
God  you  take  those  courses  that  are  the  best  for  the  good  of  the 
kingdom  and  your  own  salvation. 

Bishop. — Though  your  Majesty's  affections  may  be  very  well  known 
as  to  religion ;  yet  it  may  be  expected  that  you  should  say  something 
thereof  for  the  world's  satisfaction. 

King. — I  thank  you  heartily,  my  Lord,  for  I  had  almost  forgotten  it. 
In  troth,  Sirs,  my  conscience  in  religion,  I  think,  is  very  well  known  to 
all  the  world,  and  therefore  I  declare  before  you  all,  that  I  die  a  Christian, 
according  to  the  profession  of  the  Church  of  England,  as  I  found  it  left 
me  by  my  father ;  and  this  honest  man,  I  think,  will  witness  it. 

Then  turning  to  the  officers,  he  said,  Sirs,  excuse  me  for  this  same  : 
I  have  a  good  cause,  and  I  have  a  gracious  God,  I.  will  say  no  more. 

Then  to  Colonel  Hacker,  he  said,  take  care  that  they  do  not  put  me 
to  pain. 

A  gentleman  coming  near  the  axe,  the  king  said,  take  heed  of  the 
axe,  pray  take  heed  of  the  axe. 

Then  speaking  to  the  executioner,  he  said,  I  shall  say  but  very 
short  prayers,  and  when  I  thrust  out  my  hands,  let  that  be  your  sign. 

He  then  called  to  the  bishop  for  his  night-cap,  and  having  put  it  on,  he 
said  to  the  executioner,  does  my  hair  trouble  you  1  who  desired  him  to 
put  it  all  under  his  cap,  which  the  king  did  accordingly,  with  the  help  of 
the  executioner,  and  the  bishop.  Then  turning  to  the  executioner, 
he  said,  I  have  a  good  cause  and  a  righteous  God  on  my  side. 

Bishop. — There  is  but  one  stage  more,  this  stage  is  turbulent  and  full 
of  trouble  -f  it  is  a  short  one  ;  but  you  may  consider,  it  will  soon  carry 


you  from   earth  to  heaven  ;  and  there  you  will  find  a  great  deal   of 
cordial  joy  and  happiness. 

King. — I  go  from  a  corruptible  to  an  incorruptible  crown,  where  no 
disturbance  can  be,  no  disturbance  in  the  world. 

Bishop. — You  are  exchanged  from  a  temporary  to  an  eternal  crown — 
a  good  exchange. 

Then  the  king  said,  is  my  hair  well  ?  and  took  off  his  cloak  and  his 
George,  giving  his  George  to  the  bishop,  saying,  "remember."  Then 
he  put  off  his  doublet,  and  being  in  his  waistcoat,  he  put  on  his  cloak 
again  ;  then  looked  upon  the  block,  he  said  to  the  executioner,  you 
must  set  it^fast. 

Executioner. — ft  is  fast,  Sir. 

King. — When  I  put  out  my  hands  this  way  (stretching  them  out) 
then  do  you  work.  After  that,  having  said  two  or  three  words  to  him- 
self, as  he  stood  with  hands  lift  up  to  heaven,  immediately  stooping 
down,  he  laid  his  neck  upon  the  block  ;  and  then  the  executioner  again 
putting  his  hair  under  his  cap,  the  king,  thinking  he  had  been  going  to. 
strike,  said,  stay  for  the  sign. 

Executioner. — Yes,  I  will,  an't  please  your  majesty. 

Then,  after  a  little  pause,  the  king  stretching  forth  his  hands,  the 
executioner,  at  one  blow,  severed  his  head  from  his  body. 

After  the  stroke  Was  given,  the  body  was  presently  coffined,  and 
covered  with  a  velvet  pall,  immediately  upon  which,  the  bishop,  and 
Mr.  Herbert,  went  with  it  to  the  back  stairs  to  have  it  embalmed. 
After  embalming,  his  head  was  sewed  on  by  two  surgeons.  This  done, 
the  royal  corpse  was  wrapt  up  in  lead,  covered  with  a  velvet  pall,  and 
then  was  removed  to  St.  James's.  The  girdle,  or  circumscription  of  capital 
letters,  of  lead,  put  about  the  king's  coffin,  had  only  these  words,  KING 
CHARLES,  1648. 

An  extraordinary  circumstance  attended  the  deathbed  of  CHARLES  II. ; 
the  king,  who,  at  least  to  all  outward  appearance  had  previously  been'a  Pro- 
testant, declared,  when  conscious  of  approaching  dissolution,  his  adhesion 
to  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  confessed  to  and  received  the  sacrament  from 
a  catholic  priest.  Most  historians  agree  in  this  being  the  fact,  but  as 
the  catholic  writers  are  of  course  more  inclined  to  give  the  matter  at 
length,  we  borrow  the  following  full  details  from  one  of  them : 

On  the  2nd  of  February,  1684,  the  King  was  seized  with  a  violent 
fit  of  apoplexy,  just  as  he  came  out  of  his  closet,  where  he  had  been 
for  some  time  before  he  was  dressed.  The  Duke  of  York  was  immedi- 
ately advertised  of  it;  but  before  he  could  get  to  his  majesty's  bed- 
chamber, one  Dr.  King,  being  in  the  withdrawing-room,  was  called  in, 
and  had  let  him  blood  ;  and  then,  by  application  and  remedies  usual  on 
such  occasions,  (which  was  done  by  his  own  physicians,)  he  came  per- 
fectly again  to  his  senses,  so  that  next  morning  there  were  great  hopes 
of  his  recovery  ;  but  on  the  fourth  day,  he  grew  so  much  worse  that  all 
these  hopes  vanished,  and  the  doctors  declared  they  absolutely  despaired 
of  his  life,  which  made  it  high  time  to  think  of  preparing  for  the  other 
world.  Accordingly  two  bishops  came  to  do  their  function ;  who, 
reading  the  prayers  appointed  in  the  Common  Prayer  Book,  on  that 
occasion,  when  they  came  to  the  place  where  usually  they  exhort  the 
sick  person  to  make  a  confession  of  his  sins,  the  Bishop  of  Bath  and 
Wells,  who  was  one  of  them,  advertized  him  it  was  not  of  obligation  ; 
so,  after  a  short  exhortation,  asked  him  if  he  were  sorry  for  his  sins  ? 


which  the  king  saying  be  was,  the  bishop  pronounced  absolution  j  and 
then  asked  him  if  he  pleased  to  receive  the  sacrament?  to  which  he 
added  no  reply  j  and  being  pressed  by  the  bishop  several  times,  gave  no 
other  answers,  but  that  it  was  time  enough,  or  that  he  would  think  of  it. 

The  duke,  who  stood  all  this  time  by  his  Majesty's  bed-side,  and  seeing 
that  notwithstanding  the  bishop's  solicitation,  he  would  not  receive  the 
communion  from  them,  and  knowing  the  king's  sentiments  in  the  mat- 
ters of  religion,  concerning  which  he  had  lately  had  frequent  conferences 
with  him,  thought  it  a  fit  opportunity  to  remind  him  of  it ;  and  therefore, 
desiring  the  company  to  stand  a  little  from  the  bed,  said,  he  was  over- 
joyed to  find  his  Majesty  in  the  same  mind  he  was  when  he  spoke  lately 
to  him  in  his  closet  about  religion,  at  which  time  he  pleased  to  show 
him  a  paper  he  had  writ  himself  of  controversy,  and  therefore  asked  him 
if  he  desired  he  should  send  for  a  priest  to  him?  to  which  the  King  im- 
mediately replied,  "  For  God's  sake,  brother,  do ;  and  please  to  lose  no 
time."  But  then  reflecting  on  the  consequence,  added,  "but  will  you 
not  expose  yourself  too  much  by  doing  it  ?'' 

The  duke,  who  never  thought  of  danger  when  the  king's  service 
called,  though  but  in  a  temporal  concern,  much  less  in  an  eternal  one, 
answered,  "  Sir,  though  it  cost  me  my  life,  I  will  bring  one  to  you  ;"  and 
immediately  going  into  the  next  room,  and  seeing  never  a  Catholic  he 
could  send  but  the  Count  de  Castel  Machlor,  he  dispatched  him  on  that 
errand ;  and  though  other  priests  were  sent  for,  yet  it  fortuned  none 
could  be  got  but  Father  Huddlestone,  Benedictine  monk,  who  had  been 
so  assistant  to  his  Majesty  in  making  his  escape  after  the  battle  of  Wor- 
cester ;  who,  being  brought  up  a  pair  of  back  stairs  into  a  private  closet, 
the  duke  advertised  the  king  where  he  was,  who  thereupon  ordered  all 
the  people  to  withdraw  except  the  Duke  j  but  his  Royal  Highness 
thought  fit  that  my  Lord  of  Bath,  who  was  lord  of  the  bed-chamber  then 
in  waiting,  and  my  Lord  Feversham,  the  captain  of  his  guards,  should  re- 
main in  the  room,  telling  the  king  it  was  not  fit  he  should  be  quite 
alone  with  his  Majesty,  considering  the  weak  condition  he  was  then  in  ; 
and,  as  soon  as  the  room  was  cleared,  accordingly  called  Mr.  Huddleston 
in,  whom  his  majesty  received  with  great  joy  and  satisfaction,  telling  him 
he  desired  to  die  in  the  faith  and  communion  of  the  Catholic  church ; 
that  he  was  most  heartily  sorry  for  the  sins  of  his  past  life,  and  particu- 
larly for  having  deferred  his  conversion  so  long ;  that  he  hoped,  never- 
theless, in  the  merits  of  Christ,  that  he  was  in  charity  with  all  the  world, 
pardoned  his  enemies,  and  begged  pardon  of  those  he  had  any  ways 
offended  ;  and  that  if  it  pleased  God  he  recovered,  was  resolved,  by  his 
assistance,  to  amend  his  life.  Then  he  proceeded  to  make  a  confession  of 
his  whole  life,  with  exceeding  tenderness  of  heart,  and  pronounced  an 
act  of  contrition  with  great  piety  and  compunction.  In  this  he  spent 
about  an  hour  j  and,  having  desired  to  receive  all  the  succours  fit  for  a 
dying  man,  he  continued  making  pious  ejaculations,  and,  frequently 
lifting  his  hands,  cried,  "Mercy,  sweet  Jesus,  mercy!"  'till  the  priest 
was  ready  to  give  him  Extreme  Unction  ;  and  the  sacrament  being  come 
by  the  time  this  was  ended,  he  asked  his  majesty  if  he  desired  to  receive 
it  ?  who  answered,  he  did  most  earnestly,  if  he  thought  him  worthy  of 
it.  Accordingly  the  priest,  after  some  further  preparations,  going  about 
to  give  it  him,  he  raised  himself  up.  and  said, "  let  me  meet  my  heavenly 
Lord  in  a  better  posture  than  lying  on  my  bed;"  but  being  desired  not 
to  discompose  himself,  he  repeated  the  act  of  contrition,  and  then  re- 


ceived  it  with  great  piety  and  devotion  •,  after  which  Father  Huddleston, 
making  him  a  short  exhortation,  left  him  in  so  much  peace  of  mind  that 
he  looked  approaching  death  in  the  face  with  all  imaginable  tranquillity 
and  Christian  resolution. 

The  company  being  then  called  in  again,  his  majesty  expressed  the 
greatest  kindness  and  tenderness  for  the  duke  that  could  possibly  be 
conceived:  he  owned  in  the  most  public  manner,  the  sense  he  had  of 
his  brotherly  affection,  during  the  whole  course  of  his  life,  and  particu- 
larly in  this  last  action  j  he  commended  his  great  submission  and  con- 
stant obedience  to  all  his  commands  ;  and  asked  him  pardon  aloud  for 
the  rigorous  treatment  he  had  so  long  exercised  his  patience  with :  all 
which  he  said  in  so  affectionate  a  manner,  as  drew  floods  of  tears  from 
all  that  were  present.  He  spoke  most  tenderly  to  the  queen  t